


Glaube und Verrat

by AssassinEnigma, Temeyes



Series: Glaube und Verrat [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Assassin's Creed: Syndicate, Assassins vs. Templars, Character Death, Family, Heavy Angst, Loss of Parent(s), Major Character Injury, Minor Original Character(s), Original Character(s), Other, Past Relationship(s), Psychological Drama, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24977848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssassinEnigma/pseuds/AssassinEnigma, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Temeyes/pseuds/Temeyes
Summary: In the summer of 1903, a tragedy of Alana Rose Dorian's past had come to haunt her in the worst way possible. But as she's forced to investigate and fight her way through bittersweet memories, she struggles to reconcile with her gravest mistake.
Series: Glaube und Verrat [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1997512
Kudos: 2





	1. FRIEDEN

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, it's been a while since I've written such long, angsty content. Also, this is my first non-reader insert to be honest, (other than my original stories I've yet to post.) I'd like to thank my friend, Justin (EnigmaticAssassin in FF.net,) for letting me write his character for this specific story, as well as helping me construct the entire thing. 
> 
> Basically this is a sequel to that reader-insert story I wrote last year (Bloodlines,) except the reader from that story is now referred to as Maria WIlliams here. 
> 
> WORD COUNT: 3078

* * *

**SCOTLAND, 1870**

* * *

It was absolutely ridiculous.

Alana was panting, heaving through each inhale she took. She was rushing to close the distance between herself and her reckless friend, who appeared to be running away from death.

“Oh come on, Alana!” The bespectacled woman from afar yelled, a smirk present on her scarred lips. “Don’t tell me the future Mentor is getting old for a little race?”

It took a spurt of energy for Alana just as loud to reply. “Shut it! Bloody hell, Maria- you’ve been running for an hour straight, how are you not tired?!”

Maria doesn’t bother to reply to her older friend. Instead, she pushed herself forward, climbing up the trees. Her actions caused Alana to groan out of disbelief as she continued her pursuit. It was a complete mystery to her how her friend was even able to maintain such stamina anyway.

After a few more minutes of their chase, Alana caught sight of gravestones from afar. They finally reached their rendezvous; the St. Magnus Cathedral.

Alana finds Maria already marvelling at the building’s architecture as she had a big grin on her face. Alana abruptly stops from her sprinting as she stood next to her friend, who, by the way, didn’t even look like she broke a sweat. As Alana hunched over to catch her breath, Maria walked behind her and grabbed the concealed document from Alana’s back pocket.

“You’re going to kill the both of us at this rate.” Alana irritatingly said, sending a playful glare at her comrade.

Maria shrugged in response as she flipped back her loose sleeve of her scarf. “Maybe you’re just getting rusty.”

Alana mutters a soft ‘ _ fuck you’ _ before she straightens herself. Once she’d collected herself, she took the withered document from Maria’s gloved hands, earning a yelp of protest from her. Ignoring her childish schemes, Alana scans its contents before looking back at the cathedral’s gigantic doors.

“From what we’ve gathered from Kenway’s research, the vault must be somewhere in the cathedral.” She spoke aloud, taking a few steps around to gauge the amount of time it would take to scavenge the entire building. “Perhaps on the roof...?”

“Most likely.” Maria agreed, crossing her arms. “Although, it’s only a few hours before dawn it might take us too long to look around together.”

Alana hums, glancing at the cathedral once more before inspecting the paper at hand. “Are you suggesting that we split up then?” Earning a nod from her companion. “I take the back, and you take the front?”

“Alright.” Alana responds as she folds the document again then pockets it back. She barely even noticed that Maria already had a head start as she was jogging across the field of graves. Alana only sighed before shaking her head, but at the corner of her eye she witnessed Maria tripping over a hidden rock, followed by a chorus of colorful curses.

Alana had to hold back a chortle by biting her bottom lip. As great as Maria was, her clumsiness was entirely endearing.

As she watched her disappear from her sharp turn, Alana looked forward. Strutting towards the cathedral’s looming stature, her red and brown robes fluttered behind her.

_ ‘Let’s get this over with.’ _

* * *

When she finally snuck inside, Alana finally understood why Maria was so keen to pursue this mission for so long.

The hauntingly tall yet broad brick pillars emphasized the brilliant, moonlit stained-glass from across the aisle, its colors spilling across the tiled floor. Its Gothic interior was just simply gorgeous even Alana couldn’t deny that, and despite it being built since the early twelfth century, it was in great shape.

Although, as she walked down the aisle, Alana wondered why Maria’s been obsessed with churches for the past few weeks. Yes, churches and cathedrals are one of the long-living structures since the beginning of time and hold so much history but she still doesn’t understand her friend’s sudden fixation. Was she missing something? Alana thought she’d ask later once their mission was accomplished.

Upon reaching the altar, Alana’s brown eyes scaled the ceiling. Nothing out of place- at least, not yet it seemed. Activating her sixth sense, Alana did a prompt twirl before setting gaze on these statuettes set between three separate arches from behind the altar. Behind each wooden statue was the infamous assassin insignia.

_ ‘That was easy’ _ she thought as she approached the statuettes, her fingers ghosting over its wooden surface. Catching the sight of a subtle button at the foot of each pedestal, she pressed it and it clicked loudly. For a short while Alana waited, but the air remained still. She pressed the other, then the last remaining button- same result. Knitting her brows together she placed her index finger at the bottom of her pursed lips as she took a step back to observe, soon after her brain clicked with an idea.

“A different sound of clicking from each button.” She thought aloud. “The buttons must be pressed in a certain order then?”

After a moment of calculating the permutations, Alana concluded that there are six possible combinations. Upon her third try, there was a muffled booming sound coming down from below. Alana felt the ground underneath her tremble. As she turned around and found that at the other end of the long aisle that the holy water stoup had moved from its original position. Curious, she jogged towards it, only to encounter an opening leading underground. Without hesitation, she jumps into it; sliding down through the long tube of dirt.

After a few more moments of dirt sliding, she reaches a well-lit cave. The area was empty and spacious, the ceiling only being supported by multiple wooden beams. Cautiously creeping towards the center of the room, Alana’s felt her chest constrict when she stepped onto something, and before she knew it she found a javelin speeding towards her.

Despite her state-of-shock, her instincts kicked in just in time as she ducked. A few strands of her long hair got cut off from the javelin’s sharp tip.

_ ‘Medieval traps.’  _ She grimaced.  _ ‘Kenway certainly has an odd sense of humor.’ _

As Alana recollected herself, she doesn’t move from her place but fixates her weary gaze at the ground instead. Re-activating her eagle vision, she finds a few glowing parts around the room; some were on the rigged floor, a few on the beams and on the walls. Although vague and wonky from her perspective, she knew it was the insignia. But its sharp tip pointed towards the other side of the room, directly at a hidden lever.

But since the ground was rigged almost all over, it proves things difficult. Clicking her tongue in frustration, Alana realized there was nothing to climb onto from where she was, she had to make a run for it.

Taking a deep breath and a quick prayer that she wouldn’t get impaled by another javelin, she sprinted hard and fast. Luckily, the first few steps she took were safe, but as she was already halfway through, her foot landed on another trigger; a clamorous click resonating around the cave’s walls made the indication of another incoming javelin.

_ ‘Fuck!’ _ she internally cursed as she slid across the floor, successfully dodging her early demise. When she finds the freshly-shot javelin embedded deep into the wall, she wistfully smiles knowing that she’s managed to keep herself alive once more. As she promptly pushed herself up from the gravel, she continued her sprint towards the ledge.

Grateful she was when she managed to avoid any more death warrants, and scaled the wall and grabbed the lever without emanating fear. As the lever dropped down from there hanging weight, another but satisfying click could be heard, then a thunderous thud soon after. Assuming that the lever deactivated the traps, Alana sighs in relief before ultimately jumping down.

Alana then finds an opening at one side of the walls, most likely a result from the lever-pulling she did. With all her might, she pushed against it and it slowly revealed itself to the Master Assassin, showcasing a flight of stairs leading further down below. Smirking to herself, Alana was sure to tease and brag about her death-defying experience with Maria later when they meet up.

After jogging down the steps, she encounters a lone, wooden door at the very bottom. With her freehand, she pushed her door open. But the moment she did, someone pops out in front of her- letting out a startling yell.

You would expect that Alana would scream back as well, but instead, she instinctively punched the unknown figure in front of her with the use of her left fist. The stranger before her groans in pain, and as Alana furiously blinks, she realizes she just punched her friend, Maria, real hard across the face.

“Where the hell did you even come from?!” Alana asked as she rushed towards her friend’s aid, gingerly inspecting Maria’s now-reddening cheek.

A huff of breath comes from her bespectacled friend as Maria comfortingly rubbed her sore skin. “There was an absurdly-placed well at the back, and from inside it, it led me straight here.”

Alana stared at her friend with bewilderment, unsure how to even process it. “So you’re meaning to tell me that I spent half an hour solving puzzles and avoiding traps for nothing?”

Maria lets out a dry laugh as she throws her head back. “Would’ve called you but I know how much you love them.”

“Well, you appear to be fine. Other than the bruising cheek.” Alana curtly said as she pointed towards Maria’s face. “What have you got here so far?”

Maria then struts further into the room, gesturing for Alana to follow her. “There’s an enormous, sealed casket over here when I got in. I tried prying it open but it wouldn’t budge.”

It didn’t take the two women long to reach the casket Maria mentioned. Hell, it was hard to miss anyway; the said casket was massive indeed. It was located in the back of a seemingly small vault. It was in pristine condition too, like it was built to protect something valuable, like the Piece of Eden they were looking for. Behind it though were the exact same figures Alana saw back at the cathedral’s altar- but this time, they were life-sized.

Shaking her palms, Alana herself tried to open the casket cover, but just like how her comrade said, it didn’t even move. Not even in the slightest.

“Perhaps Edward Kenway had mentioned something in the document?” Maria suggested, reaching her hand out; obviously asking Alana to hand the old thing to her.

Complying, Alana hands over the withered piece of paper to Maria. Unfolding it, Maria adjusted her round glasses to see its contents better. While she pursed her scarred lips, her eyes lit up in excitement much to Alana’s dismay.

“Say Alana, did you encounter any statuettes somewhere above?” The younger Assassin queried, Alana nodded but her eyes gave her a pointed look, gesturing that she’d continue.”My dear Edward here mentioned that the saint who founded the cathedral holds the key to open the damn thing.”

Then Alana looks over the statues before them, their lifeless, porcelain eyes boring into them. Unfortunately, she doesn’t recognize them at all. Looking back at Maria, she shakes her head while showing an apologetic expression.

Maria, still gripping to the document she held, went around the casket and observed the statues up close. She licks her lips as her eyes hold a narrow gaze, causing her round spectacles to slide down her bridge to the tip of her nose. That’s when her eyes widened, grinning back towards Alana. The older of the two knew she had it all figured out.

“Rögnvald Kali Kolsson!“ Maria giddly said, pointed towards the statue in the middle. The man held a miniature scale of the cathedral itself but his attire seemed odd now that Alana managed to take a good close of it. “Of course, how could I forget!”

Alana was dumbfounded, unsure how to react. Thankfully, Maria continued on her enthusiastic rant that it gave Alana some context on the subject. Alana folded her arms across her chest an listened.

“You see, St. Rögnvald was a former Earl of Orkney who embarked on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land back in 1151.” She cited, her arms gesturing wildly to show emphasis. “ And sometime in 1192, he was canonized by the Pope. He’s the same man that founded the cathedral above.”

“Go on.” Alana said, keenly listening to her friend’s story. Maria walks back next to Alana, grabbing her by the arm. “Rögnvald over there was also quite a talented man; he’s a romantic, an amazing poet, a craftsman, and even adept in archery!”

Alana snorts. “A man with talented hands then.”

“Indeed.” Maria responded with a mischievous smirk. “Imagine  _ what else _ he could do with those-“

“Maria!” Alana immediately scolds while Maria lets out huffs of boisterous laughter. Hearing the unexpected sexual innuendo from Maria’s mouth takes Alana by complete surprise. “If Erwin could hear your words-“

“He would’ve laughed along anyway.” She nonchalantly replied as she shrugged off Alana’s berating. “Where were we...? Ah yes, from what I remembered from Mother’s studies, St. Rögnvald was actually a Norwegian Assassin. Not much of a big shot in our history books, but he managed to leave quite a legacy. He was also a descendant of Eivor.”

“Eivor? As in the Viking Eivor?” Alana pressed, to which Maria hummed.

None of them spoke until Maria gently patted the casket. “And if my theory is correct, this casket holds his corpse.” Alana hums in agreement before she added. “As well as a potential Piece of Eden?” to which Maria nodded. “Hold on, let me try something.”

The bespectacled woman promptly tucked away Kenway’s document as she stalked in front of St. Rögnvald’s life-sized image. Her dark eyes scanned all over the entire statue before her gloved palm took hold of the sheathed sword’s hilt, noticing the sword’s loose attachment to the statue itself, Maria grins once more before firmly gripping onto it. Swiftly, she pushes it up then slams in down; another hidden lever it seemed.

Whatever the lever did, it triggered the mechanism connected to the casket. Slowly but surely its cover opened, inside was a blinding light, causing the women to instinctively shield their eyes.

Once they managed to recover, they cautiously approached the casket and they found its hidden contents. Maria theory was correct, this was St. Rögnvald’s neatly-wrapped corpse resting inside. Sashes that held the Assassins’ symbol were wrapped around his body as well. But the item that struck Alana the most was the shining object that laid on top of his chest.

It was a Gauntlet, it was definitely made out of the same material as most Pieces of Eden the Assassins have encountered throughout the years. But it didn’t seem like the kind you’d use in physical combat; it was skeletal, thin enough that it could be easily concealed with the right glove. Never in her life had she encountered such an artifact, not even the Shroud could compare.

“So it does exist.” Maria blissfully sighed as she marvelled at the artifact. “The Gauntlet of Eden.”

“It’s beautiful.” Alana commented.

“It truly is quite a beauty.” Maria agreed without breaking her gaze from it, promptly removing her left hand’s glove; reaching out to pick up the gauntlet from its resting place. Sadly for her, Alana’s protective instincts took over as she grabbed Maria’s outstretched hand.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She demanded from her friend, who joltingly stared back. “To try it out? Kenway said that it grants the wielder immeasurable intelligence and power-“

Still holding Maria’s arm, she pulls it upward. “Yes, I am aware. But that doesn’t mean we are to try it out!”

Maria blinks before she goes limp on Alana’s tight grip. “Fine.” She begrudgingly mumbled to herself, but as she attempted to pull away from her friend’s hold, Alana didn’t budge. Her brown orbs were wide-open and her mouth agape. As Alana gawked at Maria’s bare hand, she caught sight of a thin, silver band with a tiny jewel on top wrapped around her ring finger.

Alana, utterly speechless, placed her other hand to cover her mouth. Suppressing a smile behind it. Maria on the other hand, caught up with her friend’s state of shock and her face flushed crimson.

“Since when?!” Alana questioned, still trying to contain her frivolous excitement. Holding her by the shoulders now, Alana kept a strong hold on Maria so she wouldn’t evade the conversation. “U-uh, a few weeks ago? On my birthday-“

“So that’s why you’ve been going on and on about churches lately?” Alana said, beaming at the younger Assassin. “This is such great news! Oh Maria, congratulations!” She then pulls Maria into a snug embrace, swaying themselves a bit while she does so. Maria reciprocates the gesture despite her glasses getting squished between her face and Alana’s shoulder. The pair stayed that way for a few moments before they separated, grins and wide smiles still present on their respective faces.

“I was supposed to tell you after we finished collecting this-“ Maria waved a hand towards the glowing coffin beside them. “But I guess this works.”

Alana scoffed as she picked up the Gauntlet from St. Rögnvald’s corpse, admiring its beauty before she gave it out to Maria to take; the bespectacled, and shorter woman looked back in confusion. Alana smiled as she pushed it into Maria’s arms. “Consider it as a gift, for your engagement.”

Cautiously taking it from Alana’s hand, she raised her head for confirmation. Alana only nods before she spoke once more. “You’ve been researching about this for so long, you earned the right to protect it.”

“Alana... I don’t know what to say-“

“You can thank me by making me your future child’s godmother.” Alana said, the corner of her mouth twisting into another smirk. Her statement caused Maria to groan as she stored the Gauntlet safely inside a medium pouch strapped onto her belts. 

“Only if you’ll become my maid of honour.” Maria chimed back.

“Agreed.” Alana replied. Wrapping an arm around Maria’s shoulders. “I’ve already got the perfect cathedral in mind so you’d stop worrying-“

“Oh? And where’s that?” Maria quipped, wrapping her arm around Alana’s torso as they clumsily stalked towards their exit.

“St. Paul’s Cathedral.”


	2. CHAOS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On May 08, 1903, things go awry as one of the most valuable artifacts inside the sanctuary disappears without a trace. In dire need of her expertise, Alana rushes to the British Brotherhood's rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Recommended music for this chapter would be:[[An Uncertain Present from the Assassin's Creed III soundtrack]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HLFVzImOL0E)**
> 
> WORD COUNT: 4929

* * *

**CRAWLEY | MAY 08, 1903**

* * *

Alana woke up with a start, but not the good kind.

It was the middle of a stormy night when quick, consecutive heavy raps on the front door rudely interrupted her quiet evening. She was disturbed, not because of the insistent knocking from downstairs, but the lucid dream she just had. Reliving such a tender memory terrifies her more than the close-calls she had throughout the years living a certain lifestyle.

Especially at her old age, an entire day of training the novices, teaching them the ways of the Creed, she felt like she deserved at least a decent amount of sleep. 

  
Retirement was both a blessing and a curse. As great as it felt to finally spend the rest of her days at peace, she didn't enjoy what came with it- the days were slow, and less to work to do. Her own daughter would often tell that she should take it easy as she could handle the Brotherhood herself. She never doubted Vienna's talents as she's her own flesh and blood, the same with her twin brother, Cavan. She's exceptionally proud of both her children and who they came to be. As much as she didn't want to admit but Alana missed the thrill of adventure and what she'd give for one more.

But whatever happened that night wasn't the kind she wanted.

As Alana begrudgingly opened the door, she was surprised that a fellow Assassin, who appeared to be drenched and out of breath, stood at the other side. His eyes were bloodshot and full of panic. She could already tell that something was amiss.

"Master Dorian!" The poor lad gasped. "Sorry to intrude at such a late hour, but we need your help!"

Alana held him by his clothed shoulder and ushered him inside, leading the Assassin towards the drawing room. As Alana lit a nearby lamp, the novice pulled down his hood and revealed himself to her.

"Noah." Alana finally spoke. "Collect yourself. Do you need me to fetch you a glass of water?"

The novice, now referred to as Noah, was adamant to shake his head in disagreement. His nerves still haven't calmed down as he bowed his head to the older woman before him. He nervously fiddled with his gloved hands before he spoke up once more.

"I've come with disturbing news, Ma'am." He blurted out, words tumbling out as fast as the pouring rain outside. "But the s-sanctuary has been breached."

That caught her immediate attention. Alana snapped her weary gaze at Noah, her brown eyes contorting from shock, confusion, and ultimately, anger. She scaled him up, head to toe, as if looking for any sort of deceitfulness from the young lad, yet found none.

The Sanctuary located beneath the Assassin's base in Crawley was deemed impenetrable, let alone trackable. Inside, it had similar architecture with the one from Monteriggioni. But it was more stable, well hidden, and absolutely held more valuable items previous masters have held and used.

And that included the Gauntlet.

"Please don't tell me that the Piece of Eden was stolen." Alana exasperated to poor Noah, who only avoided her intense glare. Alana clicked her tongue as her brows knitted in furious confusion.

“I’ll be right back.”

Not wanting to waste anymore time, Alana's bare feet padded towards a nearby closet that kept her thick coat and her outdoor boots. Not bothering to change out of her nightly attire, she hastily slipped on the clothes she took out. Looking back at a lost Noah, she beckoned him to follow her.

"Come on now, we don't have all night!"

\--

Honestly, Alana expected the place to be a mess.

Yet when she and Noah finally arrived at the hideout, it was as if nothing happened at all. It even made Alana assume that they were playing a joke on her. But the men and women around the compound were frazzled, running here and there. They didn't bother to greet the former Mentor, who looked as equally troubled as they were.

So Alana pushed through the crowd forming at the exposed entrance of the Sanctuary, Noah just trailing behind her. As she ran down the handful of staircases, she finally reached her destination.

Vienna, the current Mentor of the British Assassins, was already there, her back turned to Alana as she intently stared at the enormous Altair statue in front of her. And to Alana's surprise, even Marshall, Maria's older brother, was there.

Although, he looked different than he did in their youth. The sides of his brown hair were greying while his hairline was receding. Even his forest green eyes seemed dull despite the constant irritation they held. As usual, Marshall's in one of his pristine outfits despite the late hour. It made Alana's scoff at his audacity to keep up such an act despite the emergency.

"Mother!" Vienna called out, her voice was strained as her posture stiffened upon finding her mother.

"Vienna." The older woman greets without a hint of malice, yet Vienna flinches at the sound of her mother's voice. "And Marshall, I didn't expect to find you here."

"I didn't expect myself to be here at this unacceptable hour in the first place." Marshall snapped at his friend, sending steady glare as well. "But knowing that the Gauntlet had sentimental value to my family, it's rather obvious that I am needed."

Alana wasn't sure about his last sentence but she decided to ignore him to avoid any other conflict.

"Please go back home and rest." Vienna stood between Alana and Marshall, raising her hands up. "Me and Count Marshall can handle this-"

"Nonsense." Alana told her as she shook her head sideways. "As tired as I may be, I can never turn down an investigation."

Walking past her daughter, Alana's brown eyes squinted at the statue in front of them. The now-empty marble hands of Altair sent a chill down Alana's spine. She activates her sixth sense, to enhance her view of the environment.

Astonished, she was when she found nothing on the statue. No foreign fingerprints, footprints, no fallen items- hell, even the dust around the Sanctuary seemed to be untouched.

"I tried using my eagle vision as well." Vienna voiced out to her, her dejected voice obvious. "There's nothing to be found, not even from the outside nor the other rooms within the compound."

"Ghosts, maybe?" Alana lightly joked despite the tension within the air. Unfortunately, all she got was another scoff from Marshall.

"This is not the bloody time to make such idiotic assumptions!" The brooding man before the two Dorian women reprimanded. He flailed his long arms, gesturing his obvious frustration. "And to come from a former Mentor nonetheless, I fail to understand how you even became one."

Again ignoring Marshall's rude comments, Alana sighed once more. "Maria would've laughed."

That was a bad joke it seemed when Marshall sharply inhaled and crossed his arms, but now silent and pouty. Alana swore that the man acted like a child at times, pouting and complaining a lot really did a number on his features.

The death of his sister made things worse too.

"Peace, Marshall." She sighed, understanding that she breached a sore topic. "I meant no harm with my words."

He doesn't reply, only forming a distant expression.

"I don't understand." Vienna voiced out, still focused on the issue at hand, unlike the older Assassins she was with. "How can the Piece of Eden disappear without signs of forced entry, debris, or any sort of evidence?"

"Could it be the work of the Templars?" Noah chimed in, but Alana disagreed immediately.

"It's plausible, but Templars could never not leave destruction in their path." She pointed out. "Besides, whatever method the thief used, they are certainly adept in stealth."

Vienna hummed in acknowledgement. '"That is true. An rogue Assassin then?"

"Are you implying you have led a traitor in our ranks, Mentor?" Marshall finally gritted out to the younger woman, sarcasm dripped from his words. Marshall crossed his arms to intimidate the younger Mentor. Vienna returned a stern glare towards the older Marshall. Before Vienna could even defend herself, Alana came to her daughter's aid.

"I personally trained all our novices in Britain, Count Williams." Alana argued to her friend, she was starting to get irritated at his continuous berating. "They grew up in my care, I highly doubt their loyalty would waver so easily."

"You'll never know Iron Rose." The Count practically growled at her. "Loyalty is difficult to maintain these days."

Alana said nothing, only facing her daughter once more.

"In conclusion, the handiwork is  _ too clean _ to be Templars." Alana voiced out, thoughtfully thinking about the discussion they just had. "The possibility of a spy is small but we cannot rule it out nonetheless."

The others in the group simply nodded in agreement, signalling for the former Mentor to continue.

"I'll personally see this issue through and find the Piece of Eden-" Alana proposed until her daughter had suddenly yelled at her.

"Absolutely not!" Vienna denied her. "Me and a few other skilled Assassins will take it from here, mother. As I've said, you head home and rest."

Shocked at Vienna's sudden demand, Alana stood in place, mouth somewhat agape. Even Marshall was taken off-guard. "I could help you with this and you know it."

That was true, Vienna wasn't going to deny that. Her own mother was the greatest asset the Brotherhood currently had, and she would prove entirely helpful with the search for the lost artifact but knowing that she'd depriving her own mother the retirement she blatantly deserves, especially after her years of faithful service. Besides, the younger Dorian wanted to show her mother that she was an able successor as Mentor.

"No." She firmly denied, earning a frown from Alana. "You are to return to your home and take it easy. Me and Sir Marshall over here would handle everything from here."

"Vienna..." Alana said, almost like a whisper.

"Indeed." Marshall interrupted, now walking closer to the two ladies. "My daughter, Valerie, would be lending a hand as well, I made sure of it. We've got this covered."

Disappointed she was, the adventure that was basically placed on her lap was snatched immediately as it was given. Alana was unsure whether or not to be offended at their notion but deep down she knew she had to come to terms with her boring retirement.

Desperate to change the topic, Alana questioned. "Oh? Since when did Valerie come to visit?"

Marshall lit up, although subtly, at the sound of his only daughter's name. "She and her husband, Roan, decided to visit me back in Horsham a few days ago. It's such a fortunate coincidence if you'd ask me."

The older Dorian simply hummed in response while Vienna turned to Marshall with a grin on her face. “That’s great! Heard that little Felix was starting his training from Vale’s last letter too.”

Upon hearing his grandson’s name, Marshall glowed in pride which made Alana snicker in her place. She finds it hilarious that her friend could be easily swayed when it comes to his family. But she couldn’t exactly deny that she hasn’t felt the same kind of pride whenever people comment on how amazing her own grandchildren are. Vienna married a few years back to a fellow Assassin, Arnold Ross, and the pair bore two amazing little kids. Lillian and Joshua were a handful, definitely like how Alana was when she was growing up. 

Despite being an army man himself, Alana’s only son and Vienna’s twin, Cavan, was married but he and his wife weren’t inclined to have children of their own yet. He stated to Alana once that they had to consider their dangerous line of work and their outrageously busy schedules before even attempting to make their own family bigger. _ ‘Oh Cavan, always planning way too ahead.’ _ She thought.

“It’s getting late.” Marshall interrupted her train of thoughts. “There’s no point in dilly dallying here anyway, it’s better we all work once all our heads are clear from stress and fatigue.”

Noah gestures to Alana to follow him. “I’ll take you back to your house, Master Dorian.” 

She hesitates, looking back at Vienna because she doesn’t want her to work alone. As if her daughter could read her thoughts, she finds her with a smile on her face before she placed a white-gloved hand on her mother’s damp shoulder. “Go home, mother. We’ll find the Gauntlet, I assure you.”

Alana merely offers a nod before warily looking back at the empty-handed Altair statue behind them, she clenches her jaw before following Noah out of the sanctuary. She turned back to Vienna and Marshall once more as she spoke. “Promise me you’ll call if you ever need help?”

Her daughter waves a dismissive hand at her but a smile still present on her face. Marshall, on the other hand, muttered under his breath. “You’ll be the first one to know if we found anything.” 

At least that was one less problem to worry about, she trailed after Noah, who was already halfway up the first flight of stairs. Still, she felt anxious and uneasy.

Something horrible is about to come, and she knows it.

* * *

**JULY 27, 1903**

* * *

  
  


It was a grim day.

Other than the lack of progress in the missing Piece of Eden, and that Vienna hasn’t sent any news for the past few weeks, the 27th day of July was the anniversary of one of the most depressing events in Alana’s life.

_ ‘He was supposed to turn 31 tomorrow…’  _ Alana thought sorrowfully as she nursed a cup of tea. 

She already lit a few candles around the house earlier that morning to mourn. The pain and guilt never fully went away despite the years that went by. Maria’s child and Alana’s only godson, Xavier, also died back in 1876 along with his mother. He was only four years old when it happened, Maria had died to protect him.

What makes matters worse was that Xavier’s little body was never found. Maria’s oozing corpse was lying out in their front yard as their house burned to a crisp, his body must’ve been crushed in the debris and burned into ash as the flames engulfed the wooden abode. To this day, the former Baudin residence back in Bremen still remained untouched after that unfortunate day. Maria was buried next to her husband, Erwin, back in Germany while an empty, but commemorative grave was made for Xavier next to them.

Often would Alana wonder what her godson’s life would’ve been had she been there to save them. Her best friend would still be alive and would be retired as well. Xavier could’ve grown in Alana’s care as well, and trained in the Assassins’ way. She already noticed at his early age that he would become a great fighter himself as he often voiced how he’d bring glory to his late father’s name and had the desire to fight alongside his mother and his godmother.

At times when Alana would bring young Vienna and Cavan along whenever she visited them, she and Maria even noticed that he got along well with the twins, especially with Vienna. Maria joked that the two would probably end up together if fate would have it, and Alana sweetly indulged the idea of the children getting married to one another one day.

But the world is cruel, the world took such a life away from one little boy. 

Bringing her out of her depressing thoughts, Alana hears the clacks of horses’ hooves outside her house, glancing out the window, she finds Marshall’s carriage outside. Curious she was, but feigns ignorance as she finds the man get off and walk towards her front door. Gauging his timing, he gently knocks three times with precision. Alana sighs as she stood from her seat, placing down her cup of tea on the table in front of her.

Her footsteps thumped against the floor as she walked towards the entrance of her home. Soon after, she held the door knob and swung open the door. Grimace was present of Marshall’s features, which indicated that he was aware of what day it was.

“Morning.” Marshall solemnly greeted the older woman.

“Morning to you too, sunshine.” Alana weakly greeted in return, stepping away for him to enter.

Unexpectedly, Alana finds Marshall in his pristine assassin robes. Her friend scans the inside of the small house with his hands behind his back. He audibly gulps as he turns to face her.

“I see you lit candles as well.” He quietly said, earning a nod from Alana. “Valerie and I have prayed before I left.”

“Good, good.” She lamely answered. “That’s… good.”

Silence engulfed the two friends as they awkwardly stood by the doorway. It wasn’t until Marshall cleared his throat and pulled an opened envelope out of his coat.

“I’m afraid this is not the day to grieve, Alana.” He said, inspecting the concealed letter at hand. “A letter was given to me earlier this morning, and I must warn you- the contents are disturbing.”

Handing it over for Alana to grab, she practically snatched the envelope from Marshall’s hand. “Is it from Vienna?”

“No, I’m afraid not.” He answered, his jaw clenching. Whatever that was written in the letter must’ve caused Marshall such distress, which worried Alana deeply.

Slowly but surely did Alana open the ripped envelope to reveal a folded letter inside. Her fingers gingerly took it out and pocketed the ruined envelope. She wasn’t sure if she should brace herself for whatever it was written inside but she flicked it open anyway.

Marshall was right, it was disturbing.

“You seek for what you do not deserve and cannot protect.” Alana read aloud. “She gave her life for it and yet the glory was misplaced. Therefore I swept it away, far from you. It’s now where it belongs.”

She drew a breath before she continued. “A chance is all you get, a chance for redemption. The answers are where her heart beat fastest.”

Alana didn’t notice that she was gripping the paper so tightly that it crippled at her hold. She raised her head to look at Marshall dead in the eye, who returned with a stoic expression. “Could it be-”

“No, Alphonse Mulligan and his Templars wouldn’t attempt such a subtle approach.” Marshall said as he ran his gloved hands through his dark locks. “Basking in victory, perhaps. But the old fool never boasts about his gains and writes stupid poetic letters to his enemies.”

“But he’s the only other person that knows about the incident other than you, Caelan and I.” Alana argued, voice resonating in escalating fury. “Only someone who was there back in Bremen would know that Maria had the Gauntlet then, admit it.”

“Do you honestly think that Mulligan would care so much about Maria that he has the need to give her  _ glory? _ ” Marshall retorted back at her. “Besides, that old prune’s been dead for months now. Caelan mentioned it in his recent letter.”

Frustrated, Alana paced back into her living room. Twisting a lock of hair around her finger, if Mulligan was dead, then it rules out the possibility of his involvement- including his men. Unless…

“If you’re thinking that his son betrayed us, don’t even bother.” He deadpanned, completely debunking Alana’s theory. “Dear, old Lance and his family were at home sleeping when the break-in happened.”

_ ‘Drat.’ _ She pouted, sighing in defeat as she slumped on her favorite seat. Placing two digits on her temple, rubbing the area to ease her incoming headache.

“You were closer with Erwin than I was.” Her friend stated, not meeting her questioning gaze. “Did he ever get involved in conspiracies? A cult maybe?” 

“What are you implying, Marshall?” Alana irritatingly demanded. “That your brother-in-law married your sister just so he’d have her killed and snatch an unknown artifact from her?”

He didn't look her in the eye when he mumbled out his reply. “I’m just suggesting...”

Reading the note again at hand, Alana scanned the document thoroughly. “Anyway, our mystery thief said they’ll be giving us  _ ‘a chance of redemption’ _ or whatever the bloody hell they call it.” She hands the letter back to Marshall, and lets him inspect it further as well. He hummed and looked up thoughtfully. 

“-where her heart beat fastest.” He read aloud, his aged face twisting in disgust. “Sounds like a quote you’d find from a romantic novel.”

Ignoring his comment, Alana pondered deeply. The clue sounded vague, but if Alana’s assumption was correct, that would mean the criminal kept the Gauntlet in a secure location where it had sentimental value to Maria herself. 

“Marshall,” Alana called out, regaining the Count’s full attention. “Are you aware if there are any places around Britain that Maria was particularly fond of?”

His lips pursed as he walked towards the sofa directly in front of her, heavily plopping down on the cushioned seat. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, obviously trying his best to recall any important memory. He leaned back as he looked back at Alana, who was urging him to reply.

“One from Horsham, and one from our own county.” He stated, counting each place with a covered finger for Alana to see. “There was a particular library she loved to visit in the market town within Horsham. In Berkshire, there was a shooting range where father would take us to when we were children.” 

Alana nodded as she opened her mouth to speak. “I can recall a few important landmarks in London that she enjoyed hanging about as well, I supposed it wouldn’t hurt to check those out.”

The man before her grunts in acknowledgement before ultimately clasping his hands together. As Marshall licks his dry lips, he meets Alana’s tired gaze. “Are we really going to go through with this?”

“Yes.” Alana firmly said, holding Marshall’s hard stare. “Maria gave her life for the Gauntlet and for the Creed, her sacrifice mustn't be in vain.”

As the tension filled the atmosphere, Marshall let out a shaky breath before he withdrew from their momentary staring contest. He leans over, standing tall once more as he fixes the green cravat around his neck. Alana noticed that his hands were shaking, she recalled with a past conversation with Maria that whenever shaking hands indicated that Marshall was becoming emotional. 

“Ah, the pain never fully goes away, does it?” He said aloud, which surprises Alana somewhat. The Count rarely admits how he felt in times of distress and often kept to himself in check. But both of them knew that the memory of Maria runs deep into them and that it haunts them whenever it could. And now that this situation has risen from the grave, it makes things harder to deal with.

So she abruptly stood, taking quick strides towards her friend and gave him a hug. Marshall returns it, tightening his hold around Alana. He didn't cry but his breath kept on shuddering, Alana could feel it. She raised a hand as she patted Marshall’s broad back, she hushed her friend so he would collect himself. 

Eventually, Marshall relaxes and regains self control as he pulls away from their hug. He offered a small smile before nodding, acknowledging her concern. “Thank you.” Was all he said before Alana patted his shoulder once more. “Anytime.”

Clearing his stuffy throat, Marshall rolled back his shoulders as he headed towards the front door, Alana just behind him. “We must move fast, we aren’t so sure how long the enemy would keep his offer.”

“Yes. I shall leave for London immediately and start the investigation there.” Alana answered as she pushed past him, opening the door as he straightened his thick coat.

“And I’ll take Berkshire, I’ll ask Valerie if she could search around Horsham for any clues.” Marshall said as he headed out the door, offering a weak wave towards the older woman. “I'll write an immediate letter to Jacob Frye if ever needed- keep in close contact while so.”

“Of course, I’ll notify Vienna of the situation as well!” Alana voiced out as Marshall entered his carriage once more. Before his coach closed the door, the Count peeked out. “Good luck, Iron Rose. We all certainly need it.”

And with that, the carriage went on full speed, not stopping for a second. Alana sharply turns around and re-enters her abode. As she went up the stairs, she skipped a step or two in her hurry. Reaching her bedroom door, she pushed it open and went straight for her closet. Her pale hands pulling the closet’s doors open and she pushed a few of her hanged clothes out of the way before catching sight of her robes. No, not her traditional red, brown,, and gold ones from her youth, but instead the one she wore during her reign as the Mentor of the British Brotherhood. 

She hesitates for a moment when her hand ghosted on the hanger that held them, wondering how Vienna would react when she realizes her own mother went against her direct orders. But now wasn’t the time to have second thoughts, shaking her head she pulled out her uniform, tossing it on top of the bed. Pulling off her blouse and loose trousers, she carelessly threw them on the floor. She felt a chill travel down her spine due to her exposed skin, Alana took out a white dress shirt from her closet, putting it on and hurriedly buttoned it. It doesn’t take long for her to pull on her dark grey waistcoat too, she tucks them neatly underneath her brown breeches, strapping on her belts afterwards.

Alana struts towards the mirror adjacent to the wooden closet, hands threading through her smooth brown locks although a few strands of silver laced in between, signifying her age. Her nimble fingers grabbing handfuls of hair as she looped them around, eventually she neatly tied her thick braid, turning her head sideways to check for any mishaps. Satisfied, ran again to the other side of the room, taking a hold of her knee-length black boots. 

It seemed like she forgot how to breathe when Alana sat back down on her creaky bed, she noticed that she was holding her breath while she dressed. _ ‘My, I’m all over the place’ _ she thought to herself, tugging her tall boots into place. Leaning towards one of her side tables she opened the drawing and took out her pocket watch, attaching it to one of her waist coat’s golden buttons. Finally, she drapes her thick overcoat on her shoulders, rolling them as if she was afraid that they would feel foreign now.

But before she left, she had to add the cherry on top- her weapons. 

She took her coin pouch and her house keys before she left her room, locking the door then heading down stairs. The heels of her boots clicked against the wooden steps, as her coat swayed behind her. Taking a sharp turn back into the living room, halting when she reached her fireplace. Kneeling down, she reached inside, almost her entire arm inside the chimney. Pulling down the hidden lever from within, Alana heard a satisfying click just above the fireplace. Smirking, she stood again. Facing the now-opened compartment that hid behind a photo of her and her late husband, Albert.

Pushing it open, she finds an elongated box with intricate design. On top of it was the insignia of the Assassin Brotherhood. Taking it out of the compartment, Alana’s lips pouted as she opened the chest. There laid her trusty old Assassin gauntlet and her obsidian kukri. Above her kukri and gauntlet were three of her smoke bombs and twenty of her intricately decorated throwing knives.

“Hello old friends,” She said. “I hope you’ll indulge me one last time.”

She slipped it on, after a few years of not wearing it, it felt somewhat awkward on her left arm. Her brows narrowed as she twisted her arm before eventually flicking out the gold blade. Humming when she finds it sharp and in mint condition, she sheathes it back.

“You’re coming with me too.” Alana muttered to herself, grabbing the kukri, placing it into her thigh holster where it truly belonged.

Alana grabbed her set of twenty throwing knives and placed them into a pouch on her belt, fastening the button on the pouch to close it. Alana clipped three smoke bombs onto her belt as well.

“Can’t forget about you too!”

As she returned everything back in order, she clicked her tongue when she realized she forgot her steaming cup of tea on the coffee table. Disappointed that she never got to finish drinking it, she grabbed it by its saucer and placed it on the kitchen counter.  _ ‘I’ll probably have to ask Noah to tidy up the place for me, maybe he won’t mind.’ _

Alana spun lazily, checking if there’s anything else she had to do. Without anything else coming to mind, she took out her keys from her back pocket and went straight for the door.

Stepping outside, Alana locked the front door of her tiny house, twirling her hoop of keys afterwards before placing them back in her coat. Her eyes stayed forward, her facial expression didn’t give it away but she was anxious of what’s to come for the following days. But knowing it wasn’t the time for self-doubt.

This cruel world needed her one last time.

So off to London she went.


	3. FÜRCHTEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arriving in London, Alana starts her investigation for the missing Gauntlet of Eden. But as she searched every place she visits, Alana begins to recall all of the lost memories- the good and the bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I'm being completely honest, I've been wanting to continue that Bloodlines, (the AC Reader Insert story I wrote last year,) after I finish with this one. I've hinted the ending I had in mind for that story in this chapter and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't giddy that I did. 
> 
> Special thanks again to my good friend, Justin, for proofreading and fixing the chapter!
> 
>  **Recommended music for this chapter would be:[Rosie's Nocturne from the Jojo Rabbit OST], [[Chase from AC: Unity's Soundtrack]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E66Q7Tp9CeI), and lastly, [For Those We Love from AC: Syndicate's OST]** I thought these would set mood to certain parts of the chapter!
> 
> WORD COUNT: 6068

* * *

**BREMEN, GERMANY | JULY 27, 1876**

  
  


* * *

How could she be so careless?

As she snapped the reins of her horse, Alana’s mind was scrambled. She felt the overbearing pit of dread stirring inside her stomach as she frantically stared at the road ahead. Alana knew that the Templars were plotting against the German Assassins, but she didn’t know that they would attack so soon, nor that they were ambushing Maria’s abode in the outskirts of Bremen.

Back in Hamburg, when Alana was happily visiting Caelan in his abode, his informant came too late when he came with the information leak of the Templars’ attack at Maria’s home. Caelan, worried for his sister’s life, offered that they’d take his carriage, but Alana knew that a carriage ride from Hamburg to Bremen would take too long. Therefore, she deviated and borrowed a steed from Caelan’s neighbor. However, riding for a long period of time was starting to make Alana feel sore but she couldn’t care less. Her friend’s life was on the line, and so was her nephew’s. 

Because Erwin Baudin had sacrificed himself in battle a few months prior to Xavier’s birth, he left Maria to raise their son alone. But Alana and Caelan made sure they’d lend a hand in raising the boy, and they ultimately became his favorite people, (only next to his mother though.)

She didn’t want to disappoint her godson, she wouldn’t let anything happen to him. She swore that to Maria.

Up ahead, she catches sight of a faint orange glow in the distance. Fearing for dear life, she forced the horse she rode to gallop even faster, its hooves thumping against the dirt road’s gravel. Alana was familiar with the road she’s passing by- the fire in the distance was for sure coming from a nearby cottage, the Baudin residence was only around the corner. Alana painfully hoped that Maria was handling herself well as she gripped the reins so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

Upon riding past the looming trees, she finds the house in ablaze. Gasping at the sight of a lone body in the middle of the yard, Alana jumps off her stead and runs towards it. The entire outside of the Baudin house was wrecked. Aside from the burning cottage, the fence was broken through, there were forgotten, bloody knives and rifles that lay scattered around the grassy grounds. But what really bothered Alana was the stream of crimson blood she accidentally stepped on, it coming from the body before her.

As the flames were the only light source around, Alana’s eyes widened in disbelief shock. It was Maria, lying stomach down. Her once-pale complexion was now filled with bruises and cuts. Her back was stabbed multiple times as her left shoulder bore a horrid gunshot wound. Her round glasses were cracked and bent; entirely far repair. As Alana kneeled in front of her, she choked an erupting sob as she pushed her friend’s body to face upwards.

Behind her, she heard someone calling out her name. Alana knew it was Caelan and his men but didn’t bother to greet them as she was struggling to accept Maria's state. When Caelan holds Alana by her shoulder, he knelt next to the older Assassin as he looked at his own sister’s corpse.

Too overwhelmed at the sight, Caelan was unable to speak. Alana couldn’t even imagine how he felt at the moment, finding his favorite sibling like that. If Marshall had found out, he would immediately cuss at Alana’s recklessness. Instead, Caelan cradled Maria’s battered body and placed his ear on her chest. 

“Her heart’s still beating.” He whispered, causing Alana to perk up. “But only faintly-”

At the mention of her heart beating, a whimper went past Maria’s split lips. Caelan immediately forced himself to look at his battered sister. Maria’s bloodshot eyes were barely open but Alana saw them frantically searching around, so she held her cold, limp hand and whispered to her friend. “Maria…?”

Her dull, brown gaze fixated on Alana’s worried one. As a stream of fresh blood dripped down from the corner of her mouth, Maria barely managed to say a name Alana almost forgot about. 

“X-Xavier…” Maria stuttered as she whimpered once more. Tears staining her muddied cheeks as she stared at Alana helplessly. The older Assassin’s shock had taken over upon realizing that her godson was still nowhere to be found. Abruptly, Alana stood to her feet and ran towards the burning house. She could hear Caelan’s protests but decidedly ignored as her mind scrambled to find the young boy. 

Upon entering the destroyed entrance of the Baudin’s abode, everything was smeared in raging flames, the entire half of the first floor were either burned to a crisp, or turned into ashes. Accidentally breathing in the putrid fumes of wood, Alana violently coughed as she raised her arm to protect her eyes. She called out for Xavier in the midst of the inflamed chaos but her screams were deemed useless, there was no response. 

Alana catches sight of the stairway leading up towards the second floor, it was still holding. Assuming Maria’s son was trapped up there, Alana confidently nodded to herself, hoping that she was right. Although, a large wooden beam was buckled over there, blocking the steps. Alana finds a slight gap she could easily slip through if she could lift it a bit. Wasting no more time, she rushes towards it. Leveling herself to place herself underneath the beam, her gloved palms placed onto its charred structure. With all her might, Alana pushed and pushed. Her teeth gritted as she let out a loud grunt, her knees thrusting along. With the slightest budge, Alana shoved hard against the beam, allowing the slightest entry past it. The burning beam crashed to the ground. Alana looked down to see that the roaring blaze had burned through Alana’s gloves, burning her hands. Adjusting her footing and ignoring the pain, she prepared herself as Alana propelled herself up the steps and sprinted towards the master bedroom.

As Alana slammed her boot at the door’s knob, she lets herself in. She scoured the closet, behind the furniture, and underneath the bed- Xavier was nowhere to be found. Taking a few steps back, Alana placed her burnt hands onto her braided hair, gripping tightly. She began to pace in circles as she felt herself hyperventilate out of panic. 

Xavier was nowhere, not even a bloody trace left behind and it was all her fault-

Her negligence was to blame.

At the sound of the crunching ceiling, Alana snaps out of her misery as she stared above before glancing at the glass window beside her. As the roof threateningly creaked again as the fire weakened it, Alana took a few steps back before she glared ahead. As she sprinted towards the window, she braced herself as her body slammed against the surface, breaking through and safely landing on the tiled roof. As a crash from the now-destroyed bedroom filled the air for a brief moment, Alana skidded and hopped down the wrecked home’s rooftop, landing on the muddied yard again.

As she slowly rises, she finds Caelan at the distance clutching Maria in a bone-crushing embrace, his broad shoulders trembling as he holds her. Alana knew once she went back to where they were, she wouldn’t be able to hold the threatening feelings anymore. Time around her slowed as she padded back, her heart heavy and her body sore. The moment she knelt in front of a sobbing Caelan, he raised his head to look at Alana. His supposed bright blue hues appeared weary as his large hands wiped the unending flow of tears.

“There was no sign of the boy…” She whispered as she looked down on Maria’s limp body as Caelan looked away dejectedly but spared no words for the Mentor in front of him.

For what felt like an eternity, Caelan spoke but directed his words to the now-cold Maria. “May you find your way back to Erwin and father, dear sister.” he said so quietly as he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead.

Alana reached out and removed Maria’s broken glasses off her features as her other hand outreached two fingers, carefully dragging her digits down Maria’s eyes. 

“Requiescat in pace, Maria.” Alana spoke softly as she hung her head low, gently caressing Maria’s head in her hands and placing her forehead against her own. “You’ll never walk alone.”

Underneath the roaring rain on that summer night, Alana swore that she’ll make sure to prevent another tragedy like this to conspire-

No matter what it takes.

  
  


* * *

  
  


**CITY OF LONDON | JULY 28, 1903**

* * *

Recalling that terrible memory always sent chills down Alana’s spine. 

Despite the number of years that passed, Maria’s death always troubled Alana’s mind whenever she remembered, and with the current situation at hand, it definitely stressed her more than it usually did. Hell, she thinks she’s growing a few more strands of white hair just by briefly thinking about it.

After the Baudin residence quieted its raging flames because of the pouring rain that night, they managed to retrieve the Gauntlet that Alana handed Maria to care for underneath the floorboards of their living room. Alana personally held on to it, even during the wake and Maria’s funeral. She laid a bouquet of her favorite flowers on the freshly-shoveled soil on her grave before Alana immediately sailed back to England and began their search for Xavier. For years, Alana and Maria’s brothers had searched tirelessly for the boy, in hopes that he still lives but to no avail. Marshall concluded that he must’ve been burned into ash during the incident, but Alana refused to believe it so. Eventually, they forced themselves to move on.

As she walked down the busy London streets, the thick smog polluted the streets as the rocky pavement was drenched in rainwater. Regardless of the blue and dreary feeling of London, Alana took her surroundings in with a bright smile. She missed running around its rooftops and its handful of great pubs all around.

Speaking of pubs, Alana steered herself through the current of strangers as she kept a nearby tavern in mind, the one she and Maria frequented during their younger days-

The Ye Olde Cock Tavern.

The reason why it was stuck in the women’s minds, other than the great pints of beers they served, was because Maria crudely joked about the pub’s name when they first came there. Her green-mindedness proved to have bad timing when the owner heard her say that it almost got them thrown out if Alana had not intervened. Ever since then, the girls made it a point that they’ll always grab a drink or two whenever they’re together. It was as if the Ye Olde Cock Tavern was their very own haven.

Which is why Alana thought of coming over to investigate.

If their mystery thief knew Maria personally, they must’ve known all of her sentimental landmarks, especially if the person regarded a place where it struck Maria deeply. But there were so many places and so little time, Alana’s doubts began to swarm her thoughts but shook them away as she feared it would affect her judgement.

But upon reaching the street where the Ye Olde Cock Tavern was, Alana finds a large crowd forming at the very entrance of the pub. Jogging towards them, she pushed against the sea of people, eventually meeting a horrid sight.

By the doorway was a dead woman, lying on her stomach. She had a huge cut from her shoulder, down to her waist, her own blood staining her frilly white dress. The policemen prevented Alana from crossing the line at first, but upon seeing sight of the former Mentor, the policemen recognized Alana and allowed her to pass through their makeshift barricade. She gives them an acknowledging nod before staring intently at the corpse at her feet.

Alana knelt down to the dead woman’s level, inspecting the gravity of her wound; they were horrendously deep that not even a common dagger could’ve caused it. A sword, maybe, but judging on the illegality of carrying weapons these days, no one would be brave (or stupid) enough to be walking around with a sheathed sword hanging around their waist.

Curious, Alana looked over the woman’s face, her disarrayed hair covering half of her features. So Alana stretched out her gloved hand and gently swept the woman’s fringe away but only to be greeted with a shocking sight.

Whoever this woman was, her features terrified Alana for a split second. It wasn’t because she died with a petrified expression but it was because she looked eerily striking like Maria did; big, dark brown eyes and hair, plump lips, and a button nose. It made Alana want to vomit then and there but held the vile taste climbing up her throat down, she couldn’t afford to lose her composure at the moment. Not while on a mission.

An officer cleared his throat from behind her, causing Alana to look up at him expectantly. He was a much older gentleman that Alana would usually encounter when in the city. Upon seeing the man’s attire, Alana immediately knew he was Abberline’s successor.

“Is this the work of the Ripper again, Miss Dorian?” He asked with a gruff voice, but Alana shook her head in disagreement. 

“No, it’s not.” She stated, looking back at the corpse beside her, recalling that people still believe Jack the Ripper was still on the loose. “Judging from the method she was stabbed, there was no purpose of mutilation.” 

She gestures from the woman’s head down to her sprawled out legs. “And based on the expensive clothing she’s wearing, this woman is of high society. The Ripper only targeted prostitutes in the Whitechapel district, remember?”

The Chief Inspector merely hums as he scanned the corpse as well. “That is true. Perhaps the killer is trying to recreate those horrid murders. Terrible sense of humor if you’d ask me.”

Alana could only give an airy laugh as she stood up. Wiping off the imaginary dirt off her breechers, her eyes looked pointedly inside the pub. “Would it be alright if I did a bit of investigation on my own in there?”

“By all means, madam.” The Inspector stepped aside for Alana to walk through. She nods in appreciation before she promptly walked inside, he trailed in after her as Alana spun around. Using her Eagle Vision, she was disappointed when she found the place was spotless, the tables and chairs weren’t tossed around or anything. There wasn’t even a speck of blood on the floor. “What is the time of death, Inspector?” 

“Around nine in the morning, a witness mentioned that the woman was dragged out of the pub by a hidden figure.” He said, however Alana sharply turned and gave him a dumbfounded expression.

“In broad daylight?!” She exclaimed, the Inspector humming again as he looked at her with a stoic expression. “Yes, other witnesses were unable to describe the killer because they wore a hood over their head. But they did say that the person in question was quite tall and built.”

Alana clicks her tongue at his statement. Upon hearing the word _‘hood,’_ Alana theorized that the culprit must’ve been an Assassin as much as she’d like to deny that factor. Deep in thought, Alana had to turn to help- Jacob Frye.

She faces the Chief Inspector once more and bows her head. “Inspector, my sincerest apologies but this is most likely something far more than a simple murder.” She said as the man only nodded, as if he understood what Alana meant. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he said with a heavy heart. “Of course, madam. I wish you good fortune in your endeavours.” 

With that, Alana strutted outside, pushing through the dispersing crowd surrounding the crime scene once more. Looking at both sides of the street before crossing, she raised her gauntlet and inspected it briefly, skipping a step behind before triggering her rope dart to shoot outwards, its hook grappling onto the building’s roof. 

As she harshly pulled against her gauntlet, she thrusted upwards. The hard, cool air hitting cheeks as she propelled up the wall.

Next stop, Jacob Frye’s lodgings.

* * *

  
  
  


**WHITECHAPEL, SAME DAY.**

  
  


* * *

After jumping and swinging from building to building, Alana finally landed on the rooftop of Jacob’s apartment. She pauses as her rope dart retracted itself back into her gauntlet, before she made a split-second decision to surprise the younger Frye twin by sneaking inside his window- besides, it was faster than just hopping down the front door.

Scaling down from the roof, it didn’t take Alana long to reach Jacob's floor, particularly the window just right by his desk. Alana immediately finds Jacob with his back facing her, reading a handful of documents at hand, but as her gaze deviated from the hunched man, she finds a familiar young girl looking right at her with a beaming smile. Nervously, Alana offered a small wave. Right on cue, the lass had let out a childish scream. Although Alana's side was muffled, she knew little Lydia’s excitement was so loud that it startled Jacob from his studies. 

Jacob abruptly stood up with his blade out as Lydia giddily pointed at the window behind him, thinking that there was an intruder. However, the moment he turned around, he almost jumped in surprise when he found Alana perched on the window sill. Clutching his chest as he approached the window and flipped its lock open, Alana soon pushed it open and hopped inside, exaggeratingly bowing for Lydia as the young girl clapped at the older woman’s antics.

“I swear Alana, it’s like you’re aging backwards.” Jacob voiced hoarsely as he flicked back his hidden blade. “You were never this silly back in the day.” 

She merely scoffed as she invited Lydia for a hug, in which the child wholeheartedly jumped into. “Only because you were a god-awful, reckless idiot before and I had to spend my entire late twenties acting as an advisor to you.”

Jacob chuckled as he adjusted the eye patch that rested on his left eye, sitting back down on his chair before calling over Lydia. “I just used to be- well, mad as hops. Right Lydia? Do you agree with grandfather?” However, Lydia cringed at her grandfather’s sloppy kiss on her cheek before she ultimately ran off to grab a book on the floor and went back to reading.

As Alana watched their little interaction, Alana lovingly looked over Lydia’s slumped figure as she asked. “Emmett out on a mission again?” When Jacob was about to answer, Lydia spoke up. “Father and mother said they’ll be travelling to India again, to visit grandaunt Evie and Henry!”

Turning back to Jacob for confirmation, he nodded as let out a sigh. “So what brings you here, Alana-bana?” 

Annoyed, she pinched Jacob’s ear, causing him to yelp. “Do not call me that Jacob, and I’m here because I need information.”

“What kind of information?” He asked as he cared for his now-reddening earlobe. Alana rested her back against the nearest wall as she crossed her arms at him. “Do you recall the Gauntlet that Maria was tasked with guarding before?”

“Maria…” Jacob blissfully said, a sad, longing expression contorting his features before snapping back to reality when he found Alana glaring at him. “I got word it was stolen two months ago. Why? Did Vienna manage to recover it already?”

Clearing her throat, Alana replied. “Unfortunately, not yet. However, Maria’s brother received a letter from the thief yesterday and willingly gave a clue. And upon my arrival in London, I encountered a crime scene in the business district, not far from my mother’s old flat.”

Humming in deep thought, Jacob urged Alana to continue. “The Chief Inspector informed me that witnesses mentioned a tall, _hooded_ figure. I thought I’d ask if there were reports of another rogue assassin in the area.”

Scratching his stubble, Jacob forest eyes fixated at the wooden paneling of his apartment as he pondered. “Within the past few months? No. But I did hear that there was some sort of activity in one of Topping’s former fight clubs in Westminster- although, I’m not sure what kind.”

Perking up, Alana frantically held Jacob by the shoulders, catching him by surprise again. “The one me and Evie had frequented?” 

As Jacob nodded again, unsure how to react anymore. As Alana released him from her tight hold, she signalled him to follow her out the door. Jacob promptly trailed after the former Mentor as she practically rushed towards the front door. Jacob immediately groaned and commented. “Suddenly you’re so polite, Alana- using the front door and whatnot.”

Ignoring the younger Assassin, she spoke. “I think I’ve got myself another place to be thank you for your time, Jacob.”

“Anytime, Alana-bana.” He jested with a mischievous smirk twisted on his lips, when Alana raised her hand, Jacob flinched; mentally-preparing himself for another ear pinch but instead, Alana reassuringly patted Jacob’s shoulder as she gave him a sympathetic smile.

“I know you truly loved her, Jacob.” She whispered to him, careful not to peek Lydia’s interest from the other side of the apartment. “And if it’s any reassurance, she loved you too.”

He scratched the back of his neck as he avoided Alana’s gaze. Jacob felt cornered as Alana decided to bring back another heart-wrenching memory but he knew deep down that she only meant well. “For a time, perhaps.” He quietly said, running a calloused hand through his mop of hair. “Honestly, if she came back to London like she promised me- hell, Alana, I would’ve told her-” 

Jacob had managed to move on from his silly childhood crush on Alana when he met Maria, and Alana was entirely grateful for it. He even stopped teasing her with her childhood nickname too. She even assumed that the pair would end up together yet Jacob's pride and Maria's stubbornness got in the way of things, it was such a shame.

“I know, Jacob.” Alana said as she brought him to a side hug. “Too bad she met Erwin after we got rid of Starrick, hm?” She jested, causing Jacob to groan and gently got off Alana’s hold. 

“Don’t remind me of that German bloke.” Jacob mumbled to himself as he held the front door open for his friend. “She and Evie got a sad taste for men…” His comment made Alana let out a boisterous laughter as she stepped outside, offering a dismissive wave to Jacob as she jogged down the hall, towards the flights of stairs.

One step closer to the truth, hopefully.

  
  


* * *

**WESTMINSTER, A FEW HOURS LATER.**

* * *

After running through the horrid carriage traffic and gliding from building to building with the use of her launcher, Alana reached the dark alleyway she used to walk through in her younger years, the one that led to her favorite fight club all around London. Although it's already been so long since Robert Topping had retired from his illegal schemes of being London’s local bookie, most of the locations where he held his events had either shut down or been bought out by another ridiculously rich lord. 

As she steered herself for another sharp turn, Alana catches sight of a familiar, weathered-down door and sped up her pace. As her right hand held onto the door’s knob, she flicked out her golden blade before peeking her head inside the abandoned building. There was no radiating light from the inside and took that as a cue to enter. Without breaking her guard, she went down the long walkway, her tired eyes glaring at the path ahead.

Upon reaching the ring, Alana sharply inhaled as she observed the abandoned fight club. It had definitely been quite some time since someone had been here, that for sure. It was as if Alana had never retired. 

A distant memory suddenly came weaving through Alana’s mind as she hopped over the wooden fence and stepping in the middle of the ring. She could hear the crunch of gravel underneath her thick boots and the gentle breeze that caressed her skin. Alana could hear the roaring cheers of strangers that watched her defeat those obnoxious fighters, Bonita and Jennifer, way back in 1868. 

At the back of her mind, she imagined herself back there, all bruised and sore as Evie and Robert hoisted her onto their shoulders, showing her victory off. Alana held a confident smile as she waved in thanks to the audience, she found Maria by the entrance of the club with a smug grin as she offered a thumbs up to her childhood friend. The bespectacled woman was never much for fighting like Alana and the Frye twins were, but she always came to watch Alana easily winning the bets at the very same ring she was standing right now. 

The moment she opened her eyes, she was met with the harsh, dim reality. Where the place wasn’t brightly lit anymore, and that there are no spectators watching the contenders landing blows on one another. Instead, she finds herself staring at nothingness and the still air. Tables were broken and strewn everywhere. The chandelier was about to fall, hanging from its last chain. Alana came to realize that she’d been daydreaming too much wherever she went today, so she violently shook her head to steel herself.

Then and there, Alana heard a cough somewhere in the room with her, making her stiffen. Readying her blade again, she widened her stance and snapped her attention everywhere but saw nothing. Soon after she activated her sixth sense once more, scanning the place again.

At the very corner of the room, Alana saw a faint white flow of a moving figure- a woman who sat against the wall, slouched over as her legs sprawled out in front of her. Hastily, Alana jumped over the wooden fence once more and rushed next to the stranger. 

Upon approaching, Alana knelt beside the woman and took notice of her heavily-wounded state. Holding her by the shoulder, Alana forced the woman to sit up properly and was astonished at her appearance- like the one from the crime scene back in the pub, she vastly resembled Maria and had a few stab wounds at her back too, which startled her a bit. 

Thankfully, the woman was still alive, but at the sound of her wheezing breaths, one of her lungs must’ve been punctured as she was also coughing up disturbing amounts of clotting blood.

“Who did this to you?” Alana demanded from the dying woman who could barely even look back at the Assassin. “Please, anything! Let me help you.”

Letting out another convulsive cough, the woman held onto Alana’s gauntlet, weakly patting it twice as she looked at Alana straight in the eye before she felt herself drift away, completely limp. The former Mentor sighed as she closed the poor woman’s eyes before saying her last rites out of sympathy. 

She lifts her worn-out gauntlet and inspects it. Somehow the victim was focused on it before she passed moments ago. It only strengthens the possibility that a deviant Assassin was behind all of this treachery, but Alana still couldn’t make any certain connections of what she found with Maria so far. 

So she began to consider another location that’s considerably reminiscent to her late friend. So far, there were two dead women on both landmarks Alana’s been to, indicating that she was close to cracking the code. Alana’s mind abruptly conjures up another idea-

The Williams Estate, which was a few streets away from where the fight club is. At a skip of a heart beat, she ran outside once more, leaving behind the woman she just encountered alone in the dreary, abandoned club.

The truth is within her grasp, Alana could feel it.

* * *

**THE WILLIAMS ESTATE, WESTMINSTER**

* * *

Upon finding a familiar symbol embedded onto the entrance’s archway, Alana knew she was at the right place. 

Judging at the massive yard’s poor state, It certainly has been years since someone had last stepped foot on the property. Ever since her death, the Williams siblings’ mother and Berkshire’s very own Countess, Cordelia Shaw, couldn’t bear to even look at the place; knowing that the estate was the siblings’ summer home and its halls bore such tender memories of her only daughter and her late husband. So Cordelia had abandoned the place as well, but never had the heart to sell it, even until her own death a few years ago.

Marshall kept their mother’s tradition and stayed in their county most of the time. Taking care of their political affairs from the comforts of their home, while Caelan stayed back in the German Empire with his own family, acting as Alana’s overseer for the German Empire’s Brotherhood.

Basically, ever since Maria’s passing and Xavier’s disappearance, they’ve moved on. But sadly, avoided every single thing that reminded them of their existence as if it carried the plague. Unfortunately, Alana couldn’t really judge them as she had done the same. She buried everything away and every year on the anniversary, her guilt would taunt her over and over again. 

Now, as Alana stood by the massive doors of the estate, she nervously gulped as she placed her gloved palms pressed against the doors’ surface and with all her might, pushed them open. Momentarily pausing, Alana was greeted by cold, white walls of the Williams’ residence. It’s been a while since she last visited here with her own mother, Juliette, and she doesn’t recall the place being this depressing.

All of the furniture around were covered in white sheets, even the paintings that hung on the looming walls that surrounded her. The flowers placed inside the pots sculpted into the stairs’ railings had withered as dust covered the marble floors. Alana peered into the drawing room at the right side of the hall she was at, entering warily. Just the same, everything was covered head-to-toe except for one thing.

It was the massive, family portrait that loomed over the fireplace adjacent to the entryway. Despite the darkness that filled the room, Alana could see the painting quite well. Maria and Marshall were still children in the portrait, as Caelan was merely an infant wrapped in Cordelia’s warm embrace. However, in contrast to the four of them, Count Frederick had always spooked Alana. 

Perhaps it was his mismatched eyes that startled her, he’d always been kind and soft-spoken and yet Alana couldn’t help but feel tense around the man. Maria had always admired her own father, as they’ve bonded with one another the most but Frederick Williams was someone Alana kept her guard around.

After scanning the living room one last time, Alana decided to check the upper levels of the estate, figuring that most of the rooms up there held more valuables than the common areas down where she was.

Alana had always wondered how her childhood friends managed to balance their noble lifestyle and studies while training to be Assassins under the supervision of her own mother and Ethan Frye. Marshall and Maria would often say that it wasn't that about the workload they had, it was the other noble-born children they were more worried about as they were typically more nosy than most and hiding their identities as novices had proven difficult. Younger Alana could only offer a sympathetic smile as she comforted her much younger friends.

As Alana reached the last step of the stairs, she sharply strutted down the right hallway, astonished that she could still remember her way around. Passing through the moonlit hall, Alana came across a few more artworks, all knowing that Maria had painted most of them. Upon reaching the second door at the very end, her hand ghosted over the door handle.

It would be hard to deny that she was unprepared to enter Maria's old bedroom, positive that she'll be bombarded with bittersweet memories once more. Alana even wondered if the Gauntlet thief was toying with her emotions, the thought of it made her blood boil if she was honest.

Was a Piece of Eden really worth reliving all these painful memories? Fate must've thought so as Alana was already this far into her investigation, she wasn't sure how her daughter, Vienna, would react when she read the letter she sent her. Would she be disappointed at her own mother disobeying her orders? Yes. But could she blame her for doing so? No, not at all.

Even Vienna knew how everything personal it felt to her at the moment. Once she finds Alana's letter, she'd understand why. It's how Alana raised her children, and she's lucky that they're overprotective of her, not many were the same.

Wanting to get this over with, Alana swung the door wide open, accidentally slamming it too hard that it harshly hit something from the other side. She flinches and mentally apologizes to Maria's spirit as she clenched her fists, feeling the clumping sweat underneath her leather gloves.

Her brown eyes skimmed across the room and unlike downstairs, it appeared that Maria's room remained untouched. The furniture wasn't covered in sheets, nor were the scattered art materials on the floor. By the window was an easel that held an unfinished painting of a bird perched on a tree, Alana wondered when her friend was last here; she couldn't even remember anymore.

Looking over at one of the bed's side tables were a few photographs, some knocked over and covered in thick layers of dust.

Alana picked one up as she wiped it clean. Smiling when she realized that the photograph she held was a group photo of the four of them, back when they were first referred to as The Ravens of Crawley. It was taken just right after Caelan's first official assassination back in 1871, Maria had begged them that a memento was in order, so she dragged them almost across town and had a photo taken by a local photographer despite their dirtied appearance. Marshall, however, was less keen about posing for a single photo as it took so long for the camera to click its shutters.

There was another featuring the two of them, along with the Frye twins and sweet Henry Green. Evie and Henry posed stiffly as they usually did but Alana was playfully glaring at Jacob as he had an arm around Maria's shoulder. Recalling that it was taken after all of them were knighted by the Queen herself.

Lastly, there was another framed photo Alana found and it made her heart constrict, it was the one she and Maria took in Cairo on their expedition to retrieve the Keys that belonged to Bayek of Siwa with the help of Alana's grandmother's studies. Back at the Eagle Talon Hotel and Cafe, the two women posed with their respective cups of tea raised upwards as they sat in their booth, sending bright smiles towards the camera.

A caw of a passing raven was able to awaken Alana from her drifting thoughts. She internally groans as she keeps on reminiscing memories at the wrong time.

So she abandoned the endless piles of photographs by the bedside and turned her attention towards the intricate closet across the massive bed. Alana activated her Eagle Vision and was appalled at what she saw.

Unlike the crime scene and in the fight club, on Maria's wooden closet were two handprints imprinted on its metal handles. The handprints seemed like it was purposely planted there, so Alana deliberately approached the closet and carefully pried the doors open.

The closet revealed its contents and Alana was petrified- the entire thing was covered in fresh blood, inside Maria's old robes were shredded, as for her favorite pistol laid disassembled, and her hidden blade missing. However, what striked Alana the most was the only clothing that was hung; a pure white, lace gown. The garment remained the only thing pristine and untouched upon inspection, Alana brows narrowed as she connected the dots. 

As realization hit her, Alana smirked to herself as she ran out the forgotten bedroom and sprinted down the empty streets of Westminster. The culprit held the stolen Piece of Eden in London’s highest point-

St. Paul’s Cathedral. 

  
  
  
  



	4. MITLEID

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunt for the Gauntlet finally reaches the end of the line. However, it wasn't an easy in-and-out situation like Alana expected. And when the horrible truth is revealed, Alana almost lost herself in the midst of the nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES, the final chapter is here and I am ready to crumble like a chocolate chip cookie. As a person who really loves angst, I love how this turned out. Like, I gave it a chef's kiss when I typed the last word HAHAHAH.
> 
> Anyway, there'll still be an epilogue for this and it's currently halfway in the works now (I think?) Big thanks to Justin again for proof-reading and writing the combat for this chapter!
> 
>  **Recommended song for this chapter:[[Vogel im Kafig from Shingeki no Kyojin's OST]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M2LdF1RlSL0)**, this was actually the song that inspired me to write the story in the first place! Some of it's lyrics in the Dark Tone portion had inspired the chapter titles as well.
> 
> WORD COUNT: 7653

* * *

**DECEMBER 10, 1871.**

* * *

It was Maria and Erwin’s wedding day.

A bright Sunday morning it was. The cathedral was packed with both the Williams’ extensive family and as well as Erwin’s, who sailed from Germany a few days prior, most of their Assassin comrades were in attendance as well. And since The Williams’ were an aristocratic family, nobles from all across London were there too. 

From afar, she could see from the sea of seated guests her parents, the great Juliette Marie Dorian and Samuel Adam Marshall, seated next to the Countess of Berkshire and the Williams siblings’ mother, Cordelia, chattering up a storm while Alana’s twin children sat in between the two retired Assassins. Cavan was holding a pillow with two rings on it and Vienna with her now-empty basket of flowers. A few rows behind them were Jayadeep Mir who sat next to a weary-looking Jacob Frye. For once Alana felt sympathy seeing Jacob, she knew it was going to be a miserable day for the poor man. He was about to witness his close friend and former lover get married to another after all. Behind Jacob and Jayadeep sat her uncle François and his wife, Marie. It was always good to see her uncle again, especially with his retirement from the Order freeing up his time. Beside him was his son, Michel, who ran the Cafe Theatre above the Parisian Assassin headquarters. His sister and Alana’s cousin, Gabrielle, was up front with Alana and standing beside Evie as one of Maria’s bridesmaids.

As Maria’s Maid of Honor, Alana stood tall by the altar along with Evie and the other bridesmaids. Despite the uncomfortable, snug fit of her blue dress, Alana couldn’t help but smile as she glanced at the nervous Erwin, who stood a few feet away comforted by his best friend. It blissfully reminded her of her sweet Albert, who was the same when they wedded. 

Alana fondly recalls the events that occurred a few days prior, she was still in Berlin when she realized that the wedding had almost slipped her mind if it wasn’t for a novice that mentioned while he was checking Alana’s notes on her desk. She foolishly ran out of her office and hurriedly packed and basically rode as a castaway at the last ferry to London with her children. She arrived on the London docks in the late afternoon, just a day before the actual day and the verbal lash that Maria gave her made Alana feel terrible. Thankfully, the childhood friends managed to reconcile soon after.

“Alana.” Evie whispered next to her, shifting around in attempts to bring herself comfort from the restraining dress she wore. The older Assassin leans her head down slightly but never facing the freckled woman. “Just wanted to remind you that I hate that you couldn’t convince Maria to let us wear our fancier set of robes today.” Alana lowly chuckles as she eyed Evie.

“Trust me, I relentlessly tried.” Alana jested, earning an eye roll from her. “She did say their extensive family can be quite… Prickly when it comes to these certain events.”

Evie's blue gaze turns toward the crowd before them before lightly scoffing. “I will never understand aristocrats and their need to impress.”

At the organ’s change of tune, the guests that filled every single seat within the cathedral stood abruptly, heads turning around towards the entrance. Alana could hear Erwin’s sharp inhale as he looked over the end, she followed his gaze and if it was physically-possible, she could feel herself grin wider than she already was.

Ahead, Marshall and Caelan stood by the entrance, attentively waiting for their sister’s arrival. As the doors slowly opened themselves, the rays of the glowing sun hit the cathedral’s marble flooring, almost blinding. Almost immediately, the massive doors revealed the bride they’ve all been waiting for.

There Maria stood, dressed in a simple, white gown that trailed behind her and a long, lace-trimmed veil that covered her features. In her hands, a bouquet of her favorite flowers: a mix of chrysanthemums, gardenias, and hydrangeas, which greatly complimented her simplicity. As she approached her brothers, Caelan giddily turned around and offered his arm while Marshall placed a hand on the small of her waist, a subtle smile on his face. The blooming bride had her eyes set ahead, at her gigantic husband-to-be, who slapped a hand over his mouth as his eyes brimmed with stinging tears of pure joy.

As the siblings reached the altar, Erwin couldn’t help it but immediately approach his bride with a grin present on his features, green eyes twinkling as Maria looked up at him with equal adoration. The couple spoke no words, but rather shared a quiet laughter as Erwin offered her his hand, assisting her up the short number of steps before they ultimately took their place in front of the priest.

The rest of the ceremony went like a breeze, Alana and Evie even noticed the numerous times Maria and Erwin had even drifted at the event at hand, giggling and chatting a few times. Then it came to their vows; Erwin, who was a typical smooth talker, became a stuttering mess, while Maria, Alana aware how dramatic her friend could be, was all poetic with her speech. As the priest commenced the ending rites, he bowed and said. “You may now kiss the bride.”

As the pair faced one another, Erwin gingerly reached out to Maria’s veil, pulling the fabric over her head, revealing her flushed face, her hazel eyes seemingly bigger without her spectacles over them. They gave one another a genuine smile, and soon after, Erwin’s six-foot-five stature leaned down to meet Maria halfway, their lips intertwined and cheers disrupted around the cathedral, the sounds echoing throughout the building.

While Alana and Evie were clapping on the sidelines, it didn’t go unnoticed when Erwin had pressed Maria a bit too tightly against him, the shorter woman moaned in pain. Worried, Alana takes a hesitant step before she finds Maria casting a quick glance at her friends’ direction before staring up at Erwin’s concerned features. 

“I have something to tell you.” Maria whispered loud enough for Alana to hear. At first, they all thought it was something horrible but Maria’s beaming smile striking them with such excitement that they knew it was something good. 

“What is it?”

With a sharp inhale, Maria announced. “I’m pregnant.”

Gasps surround them as both Alana and Erwin stared at Maria with bewildered expressions. She offers them a shy grin as she nonchalantly shrugged. Evie on the other hand, was cringing at the tightening hold Alana had on her forearm. When the freckled Assassin glanced at the older woman, she found her smiling brightly and it left her confused. Alana drops her smaller bundle of flowers and stares at Evie with the wildest look she’s ever seen. “I’m going to be an Auntie. _Finally!_ ” Alana exhilaratingly whispered as she shook Evie, expecting an equal expression.

And riding out his excitement, Erwin hoists Maria up and begins to actually sob. “ _Schatz_ , oh _schatz._ ” Erwin chanted over and over again as he spun her around, placing messily pecks on Maria's cheeks, leaving her into a giggling mess.

Alana constantly looks over to her newly-married friends, she closes her hazel eyes shut because she knew.

She knew that it was the start of a new beginning.

* * *

**PRESENT**

  
  


* * *

When Alana opened them again, the familiar feeling of bleakness overcame her entire being.

She took Maria and Erwin’s place on the altar where they stood when they exchanged rings and vows. Alana swore she could still hear their roaring laughter as she stared blankly ahead. She gulps an threatening sob, forcing it down as she realized she was daydreaming about the past again. 

It was already nightfall when she reached St. Paul’s Cathedral, and found its doors locked shut. Alana was forced to sneak in. It didn’t take too long but as the realization of the day’s events left her bothered. Everything was so overwhelmingly familiar yet felt so unwelcoming at the same time. Alana wishes she knew how she could separate the nostalgia and hurt, but it was near impossible, especially since she’s forced to face them again.

And for what? For the sake of a stolen artifact.

Stuck in another sentimental memory trip, Alana almost didn’t feel the sudden atmospheric shift . Subtle clicking of a boot’s sole reaches her ears and Alana turns around. From the corner of her eye, she finds a silhouette marked on the ground, barely visible from the shining moonlight that passed through the windows, but it was still there. The moment Alana had snapped her head towards it, the shadow slithers away, molding into the darkened abyss. Alana bounced to her feet and jogged towards where it was before. Jogging to the center of the cathedral, she looks above just in time to see a coat’s tail end fluttering as the figure clambers up the ledge and disappears from sight.

_'Found you.’_ Alana thought as she glared above. Glancing at the wall on the left, Alana takes a few steps backward and doesn’t waste a moment to hop on the wooden ledge where one of the organs were placed, swiftly pulling herself upwards as she jumps high enough to reach onto the next, gripping tightly onto the ornate sculpture protruding the organ’s structure. Accidentally, the heel of Alana’s boot clanked against one of the organ’s pipes, causing an obnoxious ringing to sound deafeningly through the building. Blinking and her mouth somewhat agape, Alana sighs at her misstep. 

“I really am losing my style.” Alana muttered to herself as she continued on.

As she promptly hopped on the second-floor grounds, Alana hears an ominous chuckle at a distance, and doesn’t take long to cautiously approach. Trekking hastily down the narrow hallway, she finds an open window by the end, assuming that’s where her target went through, she hops out and tightly grips onto the sill. However, in her rush, Alana failed to notice the pouring rain and the moment her body turned outwards, she lost her footing and her right foot twisted in the wrong way upon contact with the slippery wall. The agonizing pain almost made Alana lose her hold on the window sill as she gritted out her grunt and took a moment to breathe. 

Alana let out a sharp inhale, and then she huffs out an exhale. Glaring ahead, she pulls herself up the top of the window’s frame and immediately hops onto the ledge.

Her twisted ankle was horribly pulsing and the pummeling rain didn’t make climbing easier for Alana, as her gloved hands grab from one drenched ledge to another, gripping so hard that she could hear her knuckles crack, which wasn’t much surprising for the former Mentor. When she finally caught hold of the roof’s mantle, she propped herself over.

_‘_

_Of all the places this thief could pick-‘_ Alana angrily thought to herself. _‘It had to be the highest point of London.’_

Looking upwards from her crouched position, she finds herself beside a statue. Upon catching a glimpse of Jesus Christ at its base with three rings around its middle, recalls another distant memory.

_'Reminds me of that time Evie got to Lucy Thorne by activating a puzzle on here and the monument to the Great Fire.’_ She briefly thought before she saw a shadow pass through the corner of her eye. Abruptly standing straight again, she felt her ankle injury shoot another wave of pain throughout her leg, but decided to brush it off as she sprinted at such a calibre. For a sixty-two year-old woman, she’s remarkably fit, even her children were astonished.

With the help of her running start, Alana started to scale up towards the dome’s point. The rain wasn’t stopping at the rate it was pouring, making Alana’s robes half-drenched at the moment. Finding the pillars that led up to the dome a daunting climb, she figured that it’ll be difficult to traverse; from the lack of ledges to grab onto, and the slippery rain that slid down its structure. Regardless, she clambers up the slippery pillars and up to the grey roof, using her legs to maintain her climbing momentum- a trick her mother taught her back when she was learning how to free run.

Ultimately, Alana reached the very top of the building. With another short leap, she’s propping herself up into the ledge of an enclosed room with light only seeping through the doorway and the opened window. From the other side of the room, there stood the mysterious thief yet they kept themselves in the shadow’s embrace with their back facing her. Alana steadied her breath before she called out to the mysterious thief.

“I think it’s about time you return what you stole.” She announced herself, sending a daggered stare at the back of the stranger’s head.

The stranger didn’t speak nor did they move an inch. Appearing deep in thought as the enigmatic person stared outside the window from where they stood. Alana then unsheathed her hidden blade, her posture tensing as she prepares herself for whatever is coming. But then the stranger before her moves its head slightly to the side, indicating that he was aware of her presence before looking back. As Alana takes a cautious step towards him, his monotone voice pierces the air, startling her.

“There was once a young boy who came from a distinguished bloodline.” He said in a forlorn sense. “Despite his nobility and talents, he was raised to be a simple, kind-hearted being.”

Alana wanted to get this over with; to slice this man’s neck and retrieve the Gauntlet. Although, for some unknown reason, she stilled her blade for the moment. Whatever the thief was blabbering about, it lured her interest. Wanting to comprehend the man’s actions, she continued to indulge his story. Fortunately, he took her silence as a signal to do so.

“Despite his father dying before his birth, his mother-“ He pauses, his throat bobbing as he swallows. “His mother, the sweetest and most humble person he’s ever met, did her best to raise him herself.”

Then Alana thought his description was eerily familiar but didn't question it, she cast him a wary gaze as she kept her stance; at the ready. “In a tragic summer evening, a day before his fourth birthday, evil men came and destroyed their little home in the outskirts of a little German town- their bombs and guns setting the humble little abode ablaze.”

His words were starting to scare Alana, it was too familiar, too insufferable to hear anymore. So in a quiet tone, she spoke. “Stop.” She was sure if he could hear her or not, either way he ignored her protest and went on.

“When their bullets pierced through the glass windows, the little boy’s mother hid him underneath the bed and whispered to be brave, saying that his aunt will come to their rescue.” His tone suddenly taunting, and furious yet remained steady. “When he heard the last gunshot, the boy thought it was over- that they were saved. But when someone pulls him out from the bed, he finds- not his mother or his aunt, instead an old man with a scowl on his face.”

“Stop.” Alana harshly whispered, but he didn’t yield.

“He took pity on the boy, and took him as a trophy. As he and the old man walked out of the house, he found his mother’s bleeding corpse lying in the front yard.” This time, the man growled as his posture stiffened. “Her supposed-bright eyes were dull, her back impaled with daggers multiple times. He stifled his sobs at the gory sight, his eyes scanned the perimeter in hopes to find a familiar heroine but there was no one there-“

“Stop it!” She screamed at him but made no attempt to attack him. Alana herself was trying to keep herself calm but the story clawed itself to her heart, reminding her of her unwavering guilt.

“She died alone.” He said with finality before slowly turning around but stopping halfway through. Alana catches the thief’s profile, his chiseled features were uncanny and his green eyes shone in the moonlight. His long, dark fringe swept back but still covered a portion of his forehead.

With a stoic expression, he spoke. “And you weren’t there to save her.”

Pulling out her kukri, Alana flips its golden hilt, holding it like an icepick. Her hidden blade at the ready as well. “Who the fuck are you?” She snarled at him, her gloved hand moderately fiddling with the kukri at hand.

This time, the stranger chuckles darkly as he faces the older woman, allowing her to take a good look at her latest enemy. “For someone with sharp wits, your brain is most certainly rotting.” He jested. “Perhaps your old age is finally coming to you, _Mentor._ ”

His mockery irritated Alana, she seriously wanted to punch his face yet she felt like something was pulling her back. She didn't reply but gave him an expression that wanted him to answer the question he ignored.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” He stated, voiced laced with sarcasm. “You couldn’t save my Mama after all, I’m absolutely sure that you’d remember me.”

Then it clicked. Alana felt like time froze when she realized the unbearable thief was the last person she expected. She mentally slapped herself, thinking how she failed to comprehend sooner- from every single detail in his story, his familiar face, and his dry humor. Her eyes widened at the size of saucers, her scowl softening at the sight before her.

“Xavier...” She breathed out, and he merely grinned maniacally, all while clapping slowly and methodically.

“Bingo!” He mocked, his infuriating smile ever beaming.

She was speechless, unsure how to take it all in. Alana wanted to rush towards him, hold her godson’s face in her hands, ask him how life treated him; how he survived the incident. But another part of her was afraid, for once in her life she had nothing to say. She wanted to cry, but knew the Xavier before her wouldn’t take an apology- not anymore at least.

At the corner of her eye, she finds a familiar symbol pinned onto Xavier’s long overcoat. To Alana’s dismay, it was the Mark of Cain.

“Templar.” She whispered. “No, no, no-“ Alana chanted over and over again as she covered her agape mouth. Xavier only observes her disbelief with an unwavering devilish smile.

“Is it truly so surprising that I’ve turned against your petty cult, Alana?” He asked, his right hand holding the hilt of his own rapier, pulling it out of its sheath. “What a pity, you hopeless fool.”

This man was not the bright, sweet boy she once knew. The Xavier before her had become a cruel, silver-tongued bastard. Despite her distraught, Alana lunged at him with fury. But the moment she thrusted her obsidian kukri at his direction, Xavier effortlessly deflected her attempt with his sword’s sharp blade. And with his left fist, he threw a heavy blow onto Alana’s face. Taken aback, Alana regains her footing as she glances at Xavier’s arm.

A familiar Assassin bracer was wrapped around his forearm, but it wasn’t just one a person could simply conjure up. The one he had was a personalized one, and its unsheathed golden blade represented the rank of a Master Assassin. It was Maria’s missing gauntlet.

“How dare you shame your mother’s legacy?” She demanded from her godson, releasing a knife at his direction. However, he swiftly dodged through each knife she threw. “To join her enemies, and to taint her blade? How could you be so heartless?!”

Alana, with all her might, slammed her kukri against Xavier’s rapier. The two of them eye-to-eye as they held off one another’s strength through their respective blades. Xavier doesn’t reply, but simply glares at Alana’s choice of words, instead he pushes Alana’s weight off him and swung his rapier fast and hard onto her. At her attempt to block his attack, Alana felt her injured ankle buckle, and she cringed at the pain it sent out which was worse than the dull aches she felt earlier. Alana unintentionally stumbled and fell down, her left hand cradling her injury as she kept her kukri pointed at Xavier.

Xavier cackles maniacally at the sight before him as he lowered his sword. “Heartless you say? You knew there was impending danger against our lives, yet you laughed and mingled around like a tourist.” He berated slowly, as he lazily teased Maria’s blade at Alana. “I mean, your audacity! It’s really quite surprising-”

Unbeknownst to him, Alana was reaching inside one of her pouches and grabbed a bomb from within as he went on his speech. As a last resort, she threw it at the ground and a cloud of thick smoke exploded; filling the small room. It catches Xavier off-guard, coughing at his accidental inhalation. Therefore, Alana took this small opportunity to run out the door, and leapt to the neighboring rooftop from where she came from.

She hoped that the younger man would take longer to recover from the smoke blast, however, that wasn’t the case. As Alana had sloppily transferred to a different segment of the cathedral’s roof, Xavier had emerged out the doorway, hastily scouring the environment until he caught immediate sight of her. He scowled as he sheathed his rapier again and took out a throwing knife from his pocket. While Alana was scrambling to her feet, pain soared through the neck and arm when she felt something pierce her right shoulder, causing her to yelp.

_‘Great.’_ She thought grimly. _‘Erwin’s strength and Maria’s deathly accuracy, what a dangerous combination.’_

“Is this how the great Iron Rose deals with threats? By cowering away?” Xavier yelled at her, a grin on his face as he prepared another knife. “Disappointing!”

“Is this how Templars kill their enemies then? By talking them to death?” Alana mocked back as she ran behind one of the statues to protect herself. She knew he was about to close in on her as Alana heard his boots make contact with the tiled roof, his wooden soles clicking at every step. After successfully pulling out the knife from her shoulder, Alana peeked through the side, unexpectedly, another throwing knife narrowly swerved past, cutting Alana’s cheek. 

“If it’s any consolation, oh dear _Auntie_ -” He called out. “I simply used them for my own gain.”

Figuring that close-range weapons had proven useless against him, Alana pulled out her own knives too. Internally scolding herself for leaving her pistol behind in Crawley, Alana fiddled one of the knives by its blade, holding it like a dart. “Then why do this, son? Lay down your blade and let’s talk about this!” Alana called out but received no reply. 

Peeking behind the statue once more, Xavier wasn’t there anymore. Frightened, Alana leaned over further until she felt a hand grab her hair, harshly pulling against the strands. Flinching at Xavier’s rough hold, the older Assassin helplessly held onto his wrist before he brutally threw her on the open ground. Alana groaned in pain as she landed on her ribs. He unsheathed his rapier once more as he knelt down and stoically stared at Alana’s limp body before him.

“Because they cared for me when you didn’t, traitor.” He quipped before he slammed the tip of his sword down Alana’s right kneecap, causing the Assassin to scream her throat raw. The pain worsened when Xavier slowly twisted his hold before dislodging the blade out Alana’s flesh. Alana rolled around on the roof in pain, clutching her bleeding knee.

As her screams ceased, Alana was breathless. For the first time in her life, she was unsure of what to do. The damage that Xavier caused on her was making her worse for wear, luckily she could still feel her right leg but she’s afraid that she wouldn’t be able to take much more at her state. Alana gawked as Xavier squatted beside her, using his sword as a temporary cane as he held onto its hilt. Oddly enough, he affectionately patted her other knee as he looked at her with such passive hatred. 

“You were like another son to me, Xavier.” Alana breathed out for him as she reached out and placed her left hand on his face. He doesn’t react at her touch, but instead stared back with a cold gaze. “And I loved your mother as if she was my own sister, you know that.”

He ignored her reasons, swatting her arm away as he replied humorlessly. “You relentlessly helped defeat the fiendish Jack the Ripper because you _cared_ so much, so do enlighten me: did you simply not care enough for me- for her? That you prioritized the stupid artifact instead?”

His response was enough to make her speechless as Alana’s lips quivered, unable to provide an answer to his question. Therefore, Xavier flicked his mother’s blade and prodded its golden tip under Alana’s chin. “What if I tortured you right now? Would it make you feel what she suffered through that night? Then afterwards, perhaps I’ll murder your children too, so you’d feel my grief-”

At the threat of Vienna and Cavan’s lives, Alana took hold of her kukri once more and swung it wildly, landing a soft slice on Xavier’s torso, causing him to land backwards and hissed. Forcing herself to flee, Alana limped towards the nearest ledged and attempted to climb down, leaving a trail of fresh blood. Xavier, on the other hand, clutched onto the slice Alana had landed on him. Instead of seething in rage, he let out a dry chortle as he focused on Alana’s bloody track.

“Touché.” Was all he said as he picked up his sword and went after the limping Assassin.

Alana had underestimated the seriousness of her wounds the moment she was hanging on over the cathedral’s ledge. Her right leg was basically useless and the knife wound on her shoulder stung insufferably, not to mention that her sprained ankle made walking and tiptoeing harder. Fortunately, the sad excuse of a blow she landed on her nephew gave her another chance to escape. But as Alana heard Xavier’s faint, approaching footsteps, she hurried along despite the aches she felt all over.

As Xavier leered from above, he witnessed Alana effortlessly breaking one of the cathedral’s windows with her elbow. He cringes at her action and reprimanded the older woman. “My word, that’s vandalism, ma’am!”

Disregarding Xavier’s constant mockery, Alana jumped inside the cathedral through the window she ruined, messily landing on the shattered glass that covered a portion of the floor.

Upon landing, the searing pain that her wounded leg made her fall to her knees. She lets out an almost-animalistic groan as she nurses the leg wound. Hastily, Alana pulls out the end of her dress shirt, ripping it. With the piece of ripped fabric at hand, she wraps it around her thigh; above her knee. The moment she tied the ends of it into a snug knot, the cracking sounds of the newly-broken glass came from behind the retired assassin, finding her nephew in mid-stand.

At the sight of his sadistic grin, Alana sharply inhales as she struggles to sprint away from him. Xavier doesn’t bother to run after the older woman instead, he lets her put a distance between them. 

“Run away if you will, it won’t be long until you bleed out!” He taunts. Alana knew he was right, however, she can’t have him murder her either.

Fortunately for her, Xavier grunts as he straightens his posture and a palm on the large cut on his bleeding abdomen, Alana must’ve sliced him deep enough for him to stumble and lean his shoulder against one of the pillars.

But when she turned tail, Alana realized they were already at the ground floor of the cathedral, there was nowhere else to run. In her state, she's unable to climb- hell, she can barely stand anymore. Alana was running out of options.

_'I cannot die here, not today.'_ Alana thought as anxiety filled the pit of her stomach. Her right hand gripping tightly onto her kukri's hilt as she limped underneath the middle of the dome.

Xavier had already recovered from his brief setback and was back to stalking his godmother, yet he made no move to provoke her further, instead he gleefully watched her struggle away from him. The tip of his rapier scratched against the floor, the irritable sound bouncing through the empty halls of the cathedral, Alana's fresh blood dripping off the steel blade.

He takes a step, then another, and another. The taunting, approaching sound of Xavier's steps caused Alana to snap behind her, fast enough to raise her kukri and its blade skidded against Xavier's rapier.

"No more running, no more games!" Xavier screamed, clearly losing his temper as he abruptly pulled his blade away and swung around, attempting to slice Alana once more. "Your life ends here, right now!"

It was clearly a losing battle for Alana, with Xavier's sheer strength and her weak state, Alana knew she was doomed. Raising her kukri, she tiredly deflects each blow he gifted her, and as Xavier violently swung his sword upwards, his blade cut the flesh of Alana's forearm. She gasps as her back slammed against one of the pews that led towards the altar, her head lolling at impact.

But when she raised her gaze, she stared in horror when she found her godson in mid swing, about to land a killing blow. Nonetheless, Alana throws herself outwards, narrowly avoiding getting skewered. Xavier's rapier temporarily gets stuck on the pew's wooden structure as Alana landed on her bad knee, she muffled a squeal as she pushed herself up. The fatigue was taking a toll on her.

She gasps for air as Alana limps again towards the altar, using the pews as support. When she does reach the altar, Alana practically lies down on its surface, accidentally toppling the goblets off the table.

"Xavier... Please." Alana breathed out, glancing at his frustrated form as Xavier pulled out his blade from embedded on the pew. "Things can't end this way-"

A chuckle escaped his lips as he smiled, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Trust me, Iron Rose. This _IS_ the only way."

Then he sprints, his sword at the ready. When he swings, Alana manages to step away and thrusts her kukri into Xavier's back, he howls as he grits his teeth at Alana, baring his canines.

Yet Alana's attack backfires when Xavier slammed the hilt of his rapier into her bruised face, causing her to step back. Alana immediately recovered and with all her might, she threw a fist onto his pristine face, another on his stomach.

What she didn't expect was that, with his left hand, Xavier pulled out the lodged kukri on his back. With two blades in his grasp, he relentlessly swings the weapons at the Assassin. "I thought you Dorians were supposed to be talented swordsmen, seems that I thought wrong!"

Unbeknownst to Xavier, his words gave Alana the greatest idea she's concocted the entire day.

The corner of Alana's teared lip quirks upwards, smugly smirking at her Templar godson. It made him pause as he scowled at her sudden change of expression.

As if time slowed around her, Alana raised her arms up to her head, her sturdy legs spread slightly apart as she glared at him. When Xavier thrusted his rapier at her, Alana took a step on her left, allowing the blade to narrowly slide past her.

With the use of her right arm, she slides her hand down to Xavier's wrist, twisting it hard enough for him to involuntarily release his hold on his sword, easily transferring into Alana's right palm.

Her left arm wasn't useless as it extended past Xavier's throat, wrapping itself around it then roughly pushing against it as Alana kicked his right shin with such tenacity that Xavier's leg flew up, causing him to lose his footing.

His flaring green eyes glowered at her very being, knowing that Alana had taken advantage of the situation already. As Xavier's back harshly landed on the floor, Alana didn't waste a second and clambered on top of him.

With Xavier's long sword in her grasp, and to his surprise he finds Alana seething at him. And before he knew it, his eyes widened as Alana slammed the end of the sword into his chest. When she felt the blade pierced his skin, something triggered Alana from within. She hastily pulls it out and plunges the sword into his chest again, again, and again, and again, and again.

Alana failed to notice that she was screaming from the top of her lungs as she relentlessly stabbed Xavier, her raw screeching overlapping Xavier’s sounds of protests and persistent begging.

But in between Alana’s blinding rampage, an image flashes at the back of her mind; a faint memory.

At a moment’s glance, she was back in Egypt at the very top of the pyramid. Maria’s posture was hunched but was grinning shyly to herself, exactly like when Alana teased her about Erwin.

When blinked, she’s back at the cold walls of St. Paul’s Cathedral, breathing shakily as she holds a blood-drenched sword in her hands. Casting her eyes downwards, she finds Xavier with a hand extended and his chest torn and exposed from her lashing. Appalled she was as she stared down at him in horror. 

“No, no, no, no, no!” Alana chanted fearfully as she threw away the rapier far from them, clamoring loudly as it fell. When she knelt down to Xavier’s level, she placed an arm underneath his nape and cautiously laid his head onto her thigh.

He was hyperventilating, no doubt that Alana had pierced one of Xavier’s lungs. The feeling of remorse swelling in her chest as she stared at his struggle, his hands slightly clawing onto her arms

Swallowing every last piece of her pride, Alana just had to ask to ease her woes. "Oh sweet boy, do you hate me?"

Xavier sighed as he ignored her question, his brows easing themselves back to their neutral position. "Was this how Mama felt like then? This sullen feeling of emptiness, the dull ache of pain?"

Alana licked her lips as she mustered up the words to say, but no words escaped through her. Instead, she reluctantly nodded and Xavier chuckled weakly at her. "You know. I saw Papa's ghost earlier that night, Auntie." Xavier quietly said while Alana intently listened. "He sat by his favorite chair and he blankly stared at Mama. It was as if he knew..."

He takes the opportunity to face his godmother in the eye, his once-bright green eyes fading at the passing minutes, blinking terribly slow as he offers a smile. "For a while, I was furious with you. But as I lay here, I realized that the blame was misplaced, this invisible war for power- the Gauntlet and all of those precursor objects you hunt for... They're the cause of Mama's death."

There was no bitter undertone in his voice anymore but rather, Xavier sounded so exhausted. As if he had bottled the feelings for so long.

"Then why all of this?" Alana pressed, a gloved hand finding itself on Xavier's paling cheek. "Why the chase? The violent schemes? The Templars?"

He coughs, blood coming out of his mouth as he blinked several times to keep himself focused on her. "Your causes were the main concern, the German Order is already in shambles- I made sure of it."

He hesitates but continues on. "And your daughter, Vienna was it? I knew that the British Brotherhood would crumble under her control if you ceased to exist."

"Vienna is superior than I-"

"She lacks the qualities of a true leader." Xavier interrupted, his thick brows narrowing slightly. "She is reluctant, overthinks too much. Did you know she often compares herself to you?"

Alana pauses and Xavier takes it as a sign to continue. "Perhaps I could understand why. You and Mama had always been talented Assassins, both in mind and body. We could never expect to be at least half as great as both-"

"Hush." Alana genuinely smiled at him for the first time in years. "If your Mother was alive today, she would've been proud to see you grow into the man you are. You've inherited her humor- her skills, better even."

The dying man playfully scoffs as he looks away. "I'll be sure to ask her for confirmation if I ever reach heaven-"

"Don't say such things."

"Be a realist for once, Alana." Xavier reprimanded. "I am dying. It's my fate to die today, the Gauntlet deems it so."

For some reason, Alana's eyes snap in confusion, in bewilderment. "What?"

A quiet chortle escapes Xavier's lips as he stares at his godmother. "The Gauntlet. Unlike what Kenway had said, it doesn't offer the gift of unlimited knowledge, but rather to see a glimpse of the future- and possible realities."

The retired Assassin looks at him with astonishment and disbelief. Alana was about to press him to elaborate but Xavier went to a coughing fit, his entire stature trembling as Alana held onto his bleeding body tighter to herself, cradling him like a child who was afraid of late-night thunder.

"Speak no more, Xavier." She whispered. "It'll be alright."

The dying man chokes as he places his right hand onto Alana's left forearm, gripping for dear life. To see the fear of death flash before her godson's eyes reminded Alana of Maria slipping away that same night. She could only whisper quiet reassurances as she helplessly listened to his struggle.

"Auntie." He choked out as he pressed his head onto Alana's clothed torso, his blood straining her clothes. "I do not regret my actions: the hunt for your life, for those cursed artifacts, the blood I’ve spilt. But you must understand my reasons for doing so.”

“I do.” Alana firmly said, all-knowing that their time was almost up. 

Xavier wheezes as he gently pulls away from Alana’s hold, digging his hand inside his coat and pulls out a thick pouch, handing it over to the retired Assassin. 

“The Gauntlet?” Alana queried as she reluctantly took it from his blood-tainted gloves. He couldn’t speak anymore, instead Xavier nods in response.

His breaths were now short-lived, he stares into Alana’s concerned gaze as she affectionately pushes his fringe away from his face. She hums softly as Alana rocked her body as she held onto Xavier’s quivering figure. Xavier grips onto Alana’s shoulder and her other arm as she pulls him into a full embrace.

“It’s over now, Xavier. It’s time to rest.” Alana said into his ear as she listened to his quiet sobs.

She comfortingly hummed a familiar tune, Alana could feel him slipping away at every passing moment; his inhales turned ragged and his iron grip loosen. When she felt him limp against her, Alana couldn’t hold it in anymore and pressed her head into Xavier’s shoulder, crying her heart out. 

“May you find your way to your Mama and Papa.” Alana whispered as she slid her fallen friend’s Hidden Blade off of his wrist and placed a kiss on his forehead. “Requiescat in Pace, my sweet Xavier. You’ll never walk alone.”

Alana closed her godson’s eyes before scooping up his body in her arms, exiting the cathedral with a heavy heart.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Are you sure this is where they’d be, Count Williams?”

“For the fifth time, Vienna, yes.”

When Vienna received her Mother’s letter the day before, she abruptly left their search and immediately set out for the journey from Croydon to London. Luckily, she bumped into the familiar faces of Marshall and Valerie Williams when she was on her way to Sir Jacob Frye’s lodgings in Whitechapel. 

As they have briefly discussed Alana's whereabouts, Marshall wanted to visit their family manor before they went to the fight club Jacob had mentioned. But upon their arrival at the abandoned home, they took immediate notice of the opened doors and the imprinted footprints onto the dusty marble floors that led upstairs. The Count of Berkshire, along with the two younger assassins, hurriedly trailed after the tracks and they were astonished when they led to the late Maria’s room. As they push into the empty bedroom, Marshall struts towards the opened closet, and gasps. He then interrupts the women looking over the photographs by pulling them out of the room, saying that they need to rush to St. Paul’s Cathedral without even an explanation.

Marshall’s silence bothered them, especially Vienna as she followed the father-daughter duo, pondering if her Mother was alright. Her mind was cluttered by how everything turned out, she wasn’t able to find the Gauntlet in the past few months, her investigations were all dead-ends, and she couldn’t even have her stubborn Mother listen to her request. It made her feel like a useless Mentor- a complete failure.

At the moment, there they were, walking towards the entrance of the cathedral, shielding themselves from the pouring rain by pulling on their hoods over their respective heads. 

“Father, _please._ ” Valerie called out as she tried to match his pace. “What is going on? Why are we here?”

A sigh escapes the Count’s lips as he sharply turns to face his daughter and points his index finger at Vienna. “Her Mother was just in the manor and did the two of you not see the closet? It was ransacked, except for Maria’s wedding gown. And if you can recall, she got married at-“

“St. Paul’s Cathedral!” Vienna exclaimed, returning Marshall’s accusing finger with a wide-eyed expression.

“Precisely.” Marshall with a dejected tone. He harshly squints at the entrance’s door before he gestures the two women to halt. 

Valerie and Vienna looked at him questioningly, following his hard stare. And there they noticed the slight creak of the door. They continued their pause, and there they saw the back of Alana’s head peeking out. But as Alana pushed the door further, she carefully turned around and revealed a limp man in her arms. Both of her arms bore a Hidden Blade; One was her own, while Marshall spied his fallen sister’s gauntlet on her right wrist.

The three of them rushed to the former Mentor’s aid and crowded her and the corpse in her arms as she collapsed to the ground. “Alana, what happened? Who is this man?” Marshall pressed as he looked at his mess of a friend, head-to-toe. “My word, you’re wounded-“

“It’s him.” Alana croaked. “Marshall, it’s him. It’s Xavier.” 

Marshall gives her a look at disbelief as he lay the body on the ground, quickly scanning the man’s features. “This is impossible.”

“You cannot deny he bears the Williams’ scowl, Father.” Valerie nonchalantly commented as she leered behind Marshall’s shoulder. “The color of his hair is striking to Aunt Maria’s.”

“And from the old photographs, his chiseled features resemble his father’s.” Vienna added as she knelt beside her mother, tending to her wounds.

As Marshall skeptically hummed, the Count apathetically opened one of Xavier’s eyes with his thumb and index finger, stretching the eyelids fully. Alana groans distastefully at her friend’s actions and kicks him with enough force to make him fall on his behind, staining his breeches with rain water.

“Alana!” He screeched as he sat up again, adjusting his hold on Xavier’s corpse. “Have a bit of respect for the dead, yes?”

The exhausted, and heavily-injured Assassin doesn’t retort to the Count’s jest, instead she takes out the same pouch Xavier had given her and throws it at him. Marshall fumbles as he inspects the ragged thing, looking up at Alana questioningly as she glared at him.

“There’s your sentimental piece of hyperbolic metal.” Alana grumbled, refusing to meet his eye. “I hope you’re goddamn happy!” 

“Mother.” Vienna beckons as Alana faces her, her expression softening. “You’re gravely injured, we should get you to a doctor.” 

She doesn’t reply. Vienna was dumbfounded when she noticed her mother’s hazel eyes glistening as fresh tears streamed down her pale cheeks. Pulling out a handkerchief out of her bright, red coat, she gently wipes Alana’s face and asks. “W-What’s the matter? Why are you crying-”

Unexpectedly, the former Mentor leans her head onto her daughter’s shoulder and says loud enough for only Vienna to hear. “I’m sorry.”

Awkwardly, Vienna pats the back of Alana’s head as a way of acknowledging the gesture. “There’s nothing to be sorry for-” 

“No, darling.” Alana practically exclaimed as she pulled away. “I was wrong, I-I should’ve known how you felt, I should’ve listened-”

“It’s alright, Mother. It’s alright.” The younger Dorian bade calmly. “I forgive you for whatever your faults were, but I need you to breathe. Can you do that for me?”

As Alana profusely nodded, she took a deep breath as Vienna carefully hoisted her to her feet, wrapping one of Alana’s arms onto her shoulders.

“It’s over now, Mother.” Vienna unknowingly mirrored her Mother’s words. “It’s time to rest.”

Alana weakly nodded as she allowed Vienna to whisk her away. She glances back to find Marshall and Valerie meekly trailing after them with Xavier’s corpse in the Count’s arms and the Gauntlet safely-tucked inside the pouch she threw at them moments earlier.

Her eyes steeled themselves when they landed sight on the sheathed Gauntlet, then drifted down to Xavier. In her mind she wondered once more how his life could’ve been different had she been there that fateful night. Alana recalls her godson’s words moments before death, how the Gauntlet of Eden could allow someone to see the future- alternate realities.

She wondered…

Oh, how she wondered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once I'm officially done with this, I'll be continuing the reader insert (Bloodlines) I wrote a year ago! I'm currently finishing the fourth chapter for that and it's mostly because I miss writing Jacob and Evie (and of course, everybody else.) 
> 
> Much love!


	5. FREIHEIT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Approximately three months after the incident in St. Paul's Cathedral, Alana continues her retirement by reminiscing the aftermath and what she could've done to avert the inevitable. When the opportunity arises, she takes the chance to redeem herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, the epilogue! I took longer in writing this that I would initially want to, mostly because I struggled with how I wanted the scenario to play out. Had to read a bunch of other fics to finally decide with want I want.
> 
> Another huge thanks to Justin for proof-reading and writing sections for the entire story! Couldn't have done it without his help.
> 
> Also! **I recommend listening to this song while reading:[[Horizons Into Battlegrounds by WOODKID]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ryXb_V71KKU).** I consider it as an ending theme for GUV as I thought it reflected both Xavier and Alana's feelings throughout the story. I've also added song recommendations for the previous chapters as well if you want to check those out.
> 
> WORD COUNT: 6751

* * *

  
  


**CRAWLEY, OCTOBER 1903** ****

* * *

Gloved digits rhythmically tapped against the sturdy desk that was covered with scattered documents, rolled up maps, and a few piles of thick books. And just within reach, the Gauntlet of Eden rested merely a few centimeters from her grasp.

Three months had already passed since the events back in St. Paul's Cathedral in London. Despite that everything had basically gone back to normal, there was still a thorn that stuck with the retired Assassin who was currently staring intently at the artifact before her.

Alana had thought about it for a while now; to use the Gauntlet and to see what it has to offer her simple, human mind. Ever since her now-late godson, Xavier, had mentioned what the Piece of Eden’s power was before his tragic death, Alana wanted- no. She needed to know-

If there was a life where she's happy.

The Gauntlet enables a wielder to see potential futures and alternate realities. That's the kind of power that everyone would crave for. Alana was afraid that if she did encounter something she'd want to see, she feared that she may abuse the artifact for her own benefit; to fulfil her delusional daydreams.

When Caelan heard of the news that his sister's only son was brought back to Germany dead, he was startled. Upon hearing that Alana had forced her blade onto Xavier, he gave her one of his rare fits.

Caelan yelled and screamed at the former Mentor, saying that there could've been another way to save him from the cage he trapped himself into. Yet Alana couldn't react at her friend's sudden outburst, because the feelings were familiar to her already. She experienced the betrayal, the pain, and the denial Caelan had felt when she found Xavier Baudin, alive and a traitor.

Eventually, he was able to cope with the facts. Caelan apologized and admitted that it was the guilt he had built up through the years, for Maria's death and Xavier's deviation, had overwhelmed him.

Alana was the one who made sure that Xavier's corpse was immediately sailed back to Germany with absolute discretion, despite Marshall's protests. Alana had to firmly explain to him that their nephew would've wanted to lay rest next to his parents after all.

They had collected Xavier's unique rapier, as well as taking back Maria's bracer. However, back when Caelan was helping Alana with dressing Xavier's corpse, his hands began to unwrap the blue scarf around Xavier's neck- a scarf that had sentimental value to Maria herself. Alana laid a hand on Caelan's arm and asked him to leave the scarf on; to let that memento be buried with the boy at least. Reluctantly, her old friend accepted.

There was no wake, the funeral happened as soon as everyone had arrived in Bremen. No one spoke during the funeral service, only offering their own silent prayers as the priest that was hired performed his sermon. When it was time to say their final goodbye, Alana threw the white rose she held between her fingers into the grave and watched blankly as men had begun to cover it up again. She didn't stay long for the aftermath; sharply turning away as she felt Vienna's worried gaze behind her clothed back.

Now there the former Mentor sat, with legs slightly spread and a forearm that tensely rested on the rickety table, her dimming eyes fixated on the Gauntlet. Alana had been dwelling on the past again. She wondered if exposing herself to another Piece of Eden would be such a good idea. Coming into contact with the Shroud a few years prior had affected her physically after all.

With a heavy sigh, Alana roughly tugs off her left glove. "Fuck it. I must know."

Throwing aside the leather glove, Alana gingerly took hold of the Gauntlet with her free hand. It's gleaming, skeletal structure clicked and opened itself, easing its way around Alana's pale, calloused palm. It was unexpectedly lightweight and incredibly flexible but now Alana was dumbfounded, she had no idea how it worked at all.

She tried clenching her fist a few times, maybe even waving her arm as if she was gormless. Another sigh of defeat escaped her lips as she frowned. Thinking that if Maria, or perhaps Erwin, were there with her, they'd be making fun of how stupid Alana had appeared.

Then her thoughts drifted off to Albert, thinking how much she missed the comfort of his embrace. The way he would bring her a cup of her favorite tea and grin had always cheered her up, the times that he'd fretted like an overbearing mother whenever Alana came home bloody and wounded from the fight clubs were memories she missed dearly too. Alana's lip quivered as she leaned her head back against the chair, wondering how vast life would've been had she made different choices.

Suddenly, the room illuminated with a light so bright that Alana had yelped in surprise before everything around her went silent.

* * *

**HORSHAM, ENGLAND**

**_AN ALTERNATE REALITY_ **

* * *

When her eyes finally adjusted, Alana blinked furiously as she squinted tightly. When she assumes everything was alright, she carefully bats an eye open, Alana gasps softly.

Suddenly she was in an unfamiliar place. Instead of finding herself sitting by her desk in her house back in Crawley, she's now sitting on an empty bed with wrangled sheets and tossed pillows, a window next to the bedside seep warm sunlight past its glass. When she looked down her body, Alana noticed that she wasn't wearing her robes, instead she was barefoot and wearing her favorite black nightgown.

She finds a mirror adjacent to the bed. Curiosity smoothly filling her thoughts, Alana crept towards it and when she took a peek of her appearance, she was relieved at what she found on the reflection.

Alana looks the entirely the same except for her hair, it appeared to be shorter and out of its braids. There weren't bags underneath her eyes, instead she looked healthy and alive as she did back in her twenties where she would go fight strangers at every fight club in Crawley London every single night, relentlessly drinking pints of alcohol afterwards too.

As she raised a hand to touch her face, a rapping on the door surprises Alana. Through the mirror's reflection, Alana saw a mop of brown locks peek through the door. However, when the person behind it revealed himself, the former Mentor seemed to have her mouth entirely agape at the sight.

"...Albert?" Alana quietly questioned as she sharply spun around to face her supposed-late husband. “Is that you?” He gives her a smile she never knew she terribly missed. Albert pushes the door open further and stretches his arms outwards, clearly asking for an embrace.

"Good morning, my love." He greets cheerfully as he awaits Alana to jump into his arms. "You slept like a babe last night, must've been quite a journey we had if you were that exhausted, hm?"

However, Alana was rendered speechless as she merely stared at him, her lips quivering as her hazel eyes began to sting. Without hesitating, Alana places her calloused palms on both Albert's cheeks, her thumbs caressing his skin as his warmth fills her palms.

The Albert before her; he was physically older than when he initially died, most likely the same age as Alana herself. But the twinkle in his eyes, his aged, tender skin, and the few strands of grey hair mixed into his dark locks- Alana knew deep down that this was real, he felt real.

Tears streamed down her own pale cheeks as she barely managed to choke out the words she wanted to say. "Y-Y-You're alive- Oh Lord, darling you're alive."

He gives her a look of questioning concern, but the smile on his features didn't appear to fade away. Albert lands his own, larger hand on hers, leaning into her touch. "Of course, I'm alive. Why wouldn't I be? Did you have a nightmare? If so, then I'm very much breathing, so ease your worries my love."

Alana doesn't respond, instead she gives him a tearful grin as she pulls his head down to her own level, forcefully kissing him on the lips. Albert was taken aback but quickly reciprocates and melts into Alana's touch, wrapping his arms around her tinier waist.

They took a moment to breathe before Alana hastily pulled him back, her arms now around Albert's nape as a way to pull him closer. She felt him grin against her lips before he had gently pushed his wife off and intently inspected her face.

Alana blinks as she unconsciously licked her lips. Embarrassed, she bobs her head down. "Ah, apologies. I don't know what came over me."

Albert lets out a chuckle, placing two digits underneath Alana's chin to make her meet his gaze. "I don't see the need to apologize because I must admit, that was a good kiss." He stated, earning a sigh of relief from her.

As Alana continues to caress Albert's face, travelling down to his shoulders and arms, he pulls away fully this time and walks over the small closet by the bed's foot. He retrieved a few articles of clothing that appeared to be Alana's size and handed them over to her.

"As much as I want to spend the entire morning _writhing_ underneath you, love." Albert teased as he sat on the mattress beside them, earning a light kick on the leg from her. "I don't think our hosts would appreciate it if we were late for lunch."

"Hosts?" Alana asked dumbfoundedly as she pulled off her night gown, tossing it on the bed and pulling on her bustier and breeches, followed by a long-sleeved dress shirt which she loosely buttoned and tucked underneath her trousers. Albert lazily hands her boots and finally stands, beckoning Alana to follow him out the door.

As they closed the door, the empty, but strange hall to Alana as her eyes skimmed around every inch and cranny of the place. Albert offers her his arm and Alana naturally takes hold of her husband, offering a shy smile as she lets him pull her around as she lets herself get lost in her daydream.

What exactly is the Gauntlet trying to show her? It wasn't that Alana was complaining but it was extremely difficult to process at the moment.

Alana barely noticed that they walked down a flight of stairs until Albert had led her towards a spacious hall with an intricate, elongated, wooden table in the center with numerous chairs. At the very end of the table was Vienna and Cavan, intently playing a game of chess.

But what surprised Alana was the two young, blonde women that loomed behind her twin children, simply watching their game unravel. One had short, slicked-back hair and the other had braided locks and a prominent nose. She doesn't know them at all so Alana abruptly stops walking and Albert simply follows suit.

As they sensed it, Cavan and Vienna looked up and waved at their parents before returning their attention back to the checkered board. The blonde women, however, perked up when they saw her and immediately jumped in front of Alana.

"Aunt Alana! Aunt Alana!" The one with braided hair exclaimed, her own brown eyes brimming in excitement. "Who do you think's going to win? Vienna or Cavan?"

The one with the short locks scoffed as she rolled her eyes. "Ingrid, it's obviously Cavan, he already took Vienna's queen."

This Ingrid merely smirks at her. "Oh, sweet sister Ilse, I sure do love how you underestimate the other chess pieces." She commented. "It would definitely fill my pride when Vienna proves you wrong."

Alana eyes the girls curiously as they bickered. They were sisters and they had just referred to her as their aunt, she wondered who these girls' parents were- if they also existed in her timeline. As Albert beside her lets out an amused sigh, a flurry of incoming footsteps behind them can be heard.

When Albert twisted around to see, Alana quirked a brow as she followed suit. And the sight she catches had her absolutely floored.

Trailing behind him was an adolescent boy that looked striking with his short, strawberry-blond hair and bright eyes and another girl that looked roughly like his age, had long dark locks cascading down to her midriff. The two were struggling to carry a single sack of what seemed to be potatoes despite that they’re holding up each end.

“Eugh, Ophelia. Are you even _trying_?” The blond boy exasperated at the girl, a bead of sweat trailing down his temple. “I can still feel most of the weight on my side over here.”

The girl referred to as Ophelia, snaps her green eyes at him. Passionately glaring at him, she abruptly releases the hold from her side of the sack which causes the blond boy to struggle maintaining his weight. “You yap as much as Uncle Marshall does but you barely do actual labor, Dayton!”

As Dayton attempted to steady the sack upright, he opened his mouth to retort but was rudely interrupted when Ilse and Ingrid simultaneously cried out. "Papa!"

There her old friend Erwin stood in his six-foot-five glory, covered in specks of dirt all over while holding a large basket filled with vegetables. However, his attention wasn’t directed towards them, but rather, at the two younglings.

“You two.” He said pointedly towards Ophelia and Dayton, who now appeared to cower underneath Erwin’s steel gaze. “Stop arguing, it’s still early into the morning for goodness’ sake.”

Ilse walks around Alana and Albert, taking the basket from Erwin’s hold and simply disappears as she enters the room at the end of the dining hall, which Alana assumed to be the kitchen. Ingrid went back to watch Vienna and Cavan’s game while the much younger children, Dayton and Ophelia, however, bowed their heads in shame as Erwin glared at them. Albert quietly chuckles as he gently prodded his elbow onto Alana’s torso, sending her a knowing smirk, wordlessly asking if she could recall the same experience when it came to their twins. With an airy laugh, Alana throws her head back and nods vigorously at her husband, smirking right back at him.

“Sorry, Papa.” Dayton and Ophelia synchronously mumbled as Ophelia took hold of her side of the sack and the pair scurried away from the three adults. 

Alana then takes the opportunity to look over her old friend, Erwin had his hands on his hips as he observed the struggling teenagers trailing after where Ilse had gone. He looked older than he initially did back in 1873, his own pair of green eyes appeared exhausted and now sported a deep scar on the bridge of his nose. His blond locks were longer and the fringe almost reached past his eyelids. As he raised a brow at them, his boyish, dimpled grin made an appearance as he finally took notice of Alana.

“Welcome back to the land of the living.” Erwin jested, patting Alana on her shoulder. “You look like shit.”

The joke earns him a half-hearted punch to the shoulder from Alana and a cackle from Albert. “I feel like it too, honestly.”

“Same.” He replied as he bit his lip. “I mean, having five, talented but hyperactive, rambunctious children... “

“Oh, an absolute nightmare.” Albert commented, earning a pointed look of agreement from the blond soldier.

“Five children…?” Alana thoughtlessly muttered under her breath as she eyed Erwin then glanced back at Ingrid by the table, and the other kids that emerged from the back door. They did share striking similarities to her friend before them. All four of them did sport Erwin’s mischievous smile. “Who would’ve thought.”

“Love?” Albert asked as she pursed her lips, not bothering to reply.

“Oh I almost forgot!” Erwin exclaimed. “Xavier’s looking for you, Alana. He has something to ask of you-”

Albert hums in agreement. “Yes, yes. A very, _very_ important question. He already asked me but you know how worrisome that boy is.”

Confused, she glared at the two smirking men but it immediately fades as she’s reminded of her godson. “Where is he?”

Erwin jabs a thumb behind him as he strutts to Albert's side, pulling him along away from Alana. “He’s by the courtyard, training. Good luck!”

Albert doesn’t protest when the taller man basically forces him away from his wife. As Alana stood there with her mouth agape, Albert sends her an apologetic smile as he lets Erwin haul him to the other end of the table. Before she turned around to take her leave, she looked over Vienna and Cavan again, who were still playing their game while the children Erwin had claimed to be his rambunctiously cheering them on. 

As a blissful smile spreads across her face, Alana takes her leave. Now on the hunt for a familiar face.

After getting lost about two times around the villa, Alana finally reaches a garden which she assumed where Erwin, along with Ophelia and Dayton, had just been. She never thought the former war hero would be tending his own garden one day, it certainly took Alana by surprise. Staring forward, she finds a wooden door that appeared to lead to another section of the garden. She struts towards it and carefully passes through, still keen on observing the surroundings. Past Erwin’s garden, Alana found herself in the courtyard he mentioned. There were training dummies that stood at one corner of the spacious area, a few wooden racks filled with daggers, swords, and lances at another. However, there was no sign of her godson anywhere.

But as Alana takes a turn to leave, planning to simply return to the dining hall, she suddenly hears the crunching of the gravel. The former Mentor froze on the spot, slowly turning around again and finds herself facing a familiar face.

There Xavier stood, he hadn't noticed his aunt yet. His dark hair slightly damp caused by the glistening sweat that covered his skin. A sword in his hand and a jug of water in the other. He wore a drenched, white undershirt with black trousers and there was a red sash wrapped around his waist. But at the end of that sash had Alana by surprise.

Similar to the one she wore in her youth, his sash bore the Brotherhood’s insignia.

Opening an eye as he relentlessly chugged down his water, Xavier chokes at the sight of Alana. He spat out his water and coughed harshly, pounding a closed fist on his chest. Worried, Alana hurries next to him and pats his back despite internally cringing at mere contact of his sweat-covered shirt. As he begins to calm down, Xavier inhales sharply and finally looks his aunt straight in the eye.

“Do you always have to sneak up to me like that, Auntie?” He exasperated as he continued to catch his breath. 

Alana chuckled. “I didn’t exactly sneak on you though.”

“Still.” He started, returning her smile. “Gave me a damn heart attack.”

With a content sigh, Xavier places his jug down on a nearby bench, brushing his dirtied palms as he straightens his posture, anxiously glancing at his Aunt from the corner of his eye. “I suppose Uncle Albert and Papa had told you why I asked for you?”

The older woman simply shook her head. “I’m afraid not, although they did seem suspicious.”

Chuckling, Xavier grins. “Honestly, I’m surprised they managed to keep it from you. Those two old men love gossip more than anyone.”

Alana laughs as she takes a seat at the bench beside them, gently pushing the jug of water away to make space for herself as Xavier placed his bandaged hands onto his hips, his muddied boots kicking a stone away from himself. When he lifted his gaze, Xavier held his mouth agape.

“I…” He trailed off, avoiding Alana’s piercing, curious stare. “Would you give me your blessing to marry Vienna?”

His words baffled her, making Alana unconsciously rub the back of her earlobes. Xavier fidgets, awkwardly shifting his weight to his other leg. He chuckled nervously, still avoiding Alana’s gaze. “Come on, Auntie. You’re killing me with your silence.”

While still aware that this was an alternate reality and not her tragic one, Alana’s thoughts lingered at the scenario before her; the idea she and Maria had jested about in their youth, becoming in-laws and such, it made her heart swell with both happiness and sorrow that it would’ve been made true. 

Looking at a perturbed Xavier before her, Alana smiles softly. Her nephew’s expression slowly lit up. The gleam in his green eyes reminded her so much of Maria when she accidentally revealed her engagement to her back at the St. Magnus Cathedral; the sisterly-bond the two of them had shared, Alana cherished dearly.

“Only if you let me name your firstborn.” Alana jested, her chocolate eyes glinting mischievously. Seeing her godson deflate in relief, Xavier slaps a hand on his chest as he sighed. 

_“Oh thank the heavens.”_ He exasperated. “And here I thought you were going to say no.”

The older Assassin chuckles, gesturing the empty seat beside her. Xavier takes his place next to his aunt and wraps an arm around her shoulder. They shared a moment of tranquility and Alana welcomed it, letting herself indulge at what felt missing in her entire life as a Master Assassin- as a doting godmother to a boy she considered as another son.

With an airy laugh, Xavier faces Alana with a content expression. “Thank you, Auntie Alana. You’ve given me so much, I don’t know how to return the favor…”

She returned his excitement, but she knew that her eyes glinted with sadness. All knowing that the Xavier in her reality wasn’t given the same treatment as himself, the fact was so grim that it was probably the only thing that kept Alana sane as she experienced this vision the Gauntlet had produced. And yet, she placed a hand on top of his, gripping it warmly.

“Just be happy, Xavier.” Alana replied with a sharp inhale. “That’s the best thing you could give me.” 

Understandably, Xavier’s expression contorted into complete bewilderment but he nods at Alana’s words regardless. A moment passed before a caw of a raven was heard from afar, causing the aunt-nephew duo to lift their gaze up the sky. Xavier then lightly tugs onto Alana’s sleeve, and nods his head to the side. He stood up and dramatically offered his arm as he wiggled his eyebrows at his aunt. Alana laughs at her godson’s antics but takes it anyway.

Xavier had directed themselves back inside the villa and she let him lead her towards wherever he intended. They shared no words, but Alana was curious to where he wanted to show her. As they climbed up the stairs to the second floor, they turned into the opposite hall where her room was. The windows illuminated the long hall with the warm, morning sun. Eventually, they reached a door and Xavier had his aunt release her hold from him. Alana pauses as her godson raps on the door’s surface and peeks his head through. His voice muffled when he spoke from inside, then turned back to face the older Assassin.

“See you at lunch, Auntie!” He says, gently ushering Alana inside. 

Before she could even protest, Xavier had closed the door shut behind her and left. Alana could hear his retreating footsteps when she sighed. “He certainly gets that from his mother…” She muttered under her breath.

“Yes, yes. You tell me that all the time.”

Whipping her head at the sound of a familiar voice, Alana finds a woman staring out the large window behind the desk, her back at her. Without a moment later, the figure revealed herself fully.

“Maria…” She breathes out, earning a laugh. “It’s been a while.”

The Maria in front of her appeared the same as Alana saw her last, although her hair was shorter like the way she had it when they were children. Her dark, but aged eyes still held glittering rascality, a lopsided smirk present on her scarred lips. Seeing her again made the former Mentor temporarily forget the dried blood and stab wounds that were once splattered across her corpse.

The bespectacled woman rounds the furniture, her long skirt fluttering behind her. She then lazily rested against the desk and crossed her arms as she met Alana’s stare. 

Alana plants herself by the doorway, reluctant to do anything. Given the unexpected scenario, she was unsure what to do. Was she supposed to embrace her old friend’s _doppelganger_? Weep before her? She finds herself with an agape mouth, with nothing to say.

But despite her state, Maria rolls her eyes as she places her palms on the desk behind her. She opened her mouth to speak. “It certainly has been. Yet our busy schedules made three months seem like it was only yesterday.” 

“Truly.” Alana answered with a lowered gaze, a few of her brown strands cascading past her shoulder. 

A pregnant pause filled the room, but it wasn’t uncomfortable at all. Maria pushes herself off the desk’s surface and walks past Alana. Alana stepped aside as she watched her childhood friend open the office’s door and glanced back at her. “Let’s take a walk, hm?”

Alana nodded agreeingly as she quietly trailed after her. They kept to themselves until after stepping out the office door, Alana decided it was time to confront the inevitable. 

“I never really thought you'd be the kind of person to want a large family.” She commented, and it made Maria burst into fits of laughter.

“So I’ve been told.” Maria said in between her gasps. “Erwin was practically living in his lovely garden, so I _had_ kept him _busy._ ”

Alana groans as she visibly shudders at the innuendo while Maria merely grins at her friend’s reaction. This was what Maria was good at, she always thought. Making the world and its problems seem distant with her jokes and schemes. Alana appreciated it despite crude jests, it made her feel at ease again.

“How’s life in Crawley as of late?” The bespectacled Assassin queried, casting a glance at her taller friend. Alana shrugs. “Same old, same old. Training novices, overseeing and keeping track whatever keeps England from turmoil.” 

Maria hums in response. “And Vienna? How’s she faring as our new Mentor?”

Her friend’s words made Alana flinch as she stuttered in her step. She reflects on Xavier’s final words before his untimely death in her reality; she wanted to be honest, so she spoke the truth. “I’ve been told that I was too… controlling of her.” Alana admitted and Maria sighed. 

“Oh Alana…”

“I know.” She interrupted before Maria could say more. “I failed to realize the pressure I’ve placed onto her. Not to mention, I’ve been asserting myself over her responsibilities that she began to doubt herself.”

After a brief pause, Alana mumbled. _“What a mother I am.”_

Maria opened the back door, and another wave of silence infiltrated their conversation, both women contemplating on what to say. Fortunately, Maria had mustered the courage to express her thoughts. “Don’t say such things. It’s natural for every mother to fret over their child, Alana. But Vienna’s a smart and capable Mentor, you must let her adapt to it herself.”

The older woman simply nods dejectedly, mentally noting Maria’s words as they passed another hallway. Catching sight at one of the photographs on the wall, she finds a family portrait of the Baudins hanging in the middle of the scattered frames. When she noticed Alana abruptly stopping from their stroll, Maria paced back and watched her friend curiously.

“Tell me about them.” Alana said, almost sounding like a demand. Maria shrugs sheepishly as she pursed her lips. “About what specifically?”

“Your children.” Alana motioned a finger towards the photograph then crossed her arms. “What makes each of them special?”

Maria chuckles as she stepped closer to the wall, eyeing Alana with a playful glare. “You make it seem like you didn’t train them yourself, but alright.”

The bespectacled woman clears her throat as she points her index finger at the blonde twins. “Ilse and Ingrid, my second-borns. Ilse’s the athlete while Ingrid’s more reserved, a bookworm like myself. Together, they concoct the most dangerous schemes.”

Alana giggles. “Reminds me of the two of us.” She said, earning a beam from her friend.

Moving on, Maria shifts her finger towards the teenage boy that appeared to be Erwin’s splitting image, although shorter than his older brother and father. “Dayton. He’s quite a rascal, a neat-freak. He wants to join the military when he’s done with his training, and he’s quite a marksman courtesy of our lessons of course.”

Nodding, Alana gestures Maria to finish as she points at the youngest girl in the photo. “And Ophelia, our kind-hearted little girl. Although, she may be physically-inept unlike her siblings, but she can charm almost anyone.” Maria says before adding a quiet comment. “Works on her father all the time it seems.”

Alana could definitely imagine that being so as Ophelia resembled her mother’s features except for her eyes, there was no doubt that Erwin would spoil her more compared to the others.

Then the two women shift their brown gazes towards Xavier’s familiar face. Maria gingerly prods a finger against the frame’s glass as she spoke. “And your favorite godson, Xavier. A master swordsman that boy is. However, he’s trouble when he begins to use those submission techniques you’ve taught him. God knows how horrible my back feels every time he uses them on me…”

Maria unconsciously rubs her back as her expression turns into a grim one. Her reaction made Alana bite her lip to hold back a laugh, who would’ve thought that Xavier could be capable of such. But as her mind wanders over what could’ve been, Alana’s grin suddenly fades away. Already knowing that the mishap that she caused before had cost, not only Maria’s life, but the future these children could’ve had. 

The glasses that sat on Maria’s bridge slid down slightly as she took a sharp turn and continued their little stroll. Alana, who was only a few feet behind, felt her lower lip quiver as she took a sharp breath. She felt the need to speak up.

“I’m sorry.” Her tone cracking as she clenched her jaw, attempting to stop her tears from falling.

Maria’s steps falter as she looks back at her taller friend, perplexity evident on features. With a raised brow, she asked. “Whatever for?”

“I...” Alana gasped, fixating her gaze to her boots as she tried to find the words to say without revealing too much. “I’ve done you wrong. Terribly so. I made the gravest choice, my dearest friend. And here I am, unable to cope with the consequences.”

Maria blinks as she reluctantly reaches a hand towards Alana’s hunched figure, but decides against it as she sighed. Pursing her scarred lips once more as she faced the window beside them, she spoke.

"If there is one thing I learned from my father..." Maria started, placed her palm against the window’s glass. "Is that to live a life without regrets."

Alana glances at Maria, who appeared to be distracted with the muffled noise emanating from the yard below them. She follows her sight, only to find Albert and Erwin carrying a long table on each side, while Ilse and Ingrid trailed after the two men with a few chairs. Ophelia and Dayton held onto each of Cavan's arms as they pestered him with questions, while Xavier walked beside Vienna, neither touching however they shared a quiet banter.

The former Mentor couldn't help but feel elated at the view, however she ponders at Maria's statement. So she gives her the same pointed expression she always does whenever something appears unclear. Maria doesn't reciprocate Alana's look, but instead continues with her speech.

"I've abandoned an aristocratic lifestyle to pledge myself fully to the Creed. To marry a man who had nothing." The bespectacled Assassin stated as her eyes skimmed at her husband's figure below, smiling widely. "I've fought for London against the Templars, alongside you and the Fryes despite my personal vendetta. And yet, I do not regret a moment of it."

Alana then recalls Xavier’s final words back at St. Paul’s Cathedral, that he never once lamented on his life choices despite knowing that it’ll be the cause of his demise. All because he embraced the reality he was given and wanted to do better by attempting to end both sides of the Assassin-Templar war. 

"Nobody would ever know the outcome of your decisions, dear Alana." Maria says, her voice so soft that it sounded distant. "Whether it'll be for better or worse, you must accept the consequences wholeheartedly."

Then that's when she felt it, Alana's heart stop for a moment as she heard those words slip out of Maria's mouth. It's as if this doppelganger knew what haunted her hazy mind for years since 1876.

Perhaps this was what she was looking for; the closure of what Maria must’ve felt when that night happened. To know if she would've blamed her friend for everything and yet there she stood, and for the first time, she was the one teaching Alana a lesson and not the other way around.

"Whatever you may feel or what those affected would. Do not succumb to despair, overcome it instead." She continued, now facing Alana herself. "Because that's what the great Iron Rose would do, remember?"

Then, with an outstretched hand, Maria cups Alana’s cheek as her thumb wipes a stray tear. Alana gasped, with the sight of her friend’s soft beam the last thing she saw before another burst of white light engulfing her sight once more.

* * *

  
**PRESENT**

* * *

  
  


"Mother? _Mother!"_

Blinking several times, Alana finds another pair of brown eyes staring back at her. When she finally regained full consciousness, she was surprised to see her only son, Cavan, who had a tight grip on both her shoulders, shaking her slightly still.

Then her eyes shift behind him and she finds Vienna, who was donned in her bright, crimson Assassin robes. Her arms crossed against her chest as she peeked over her twin's shoulder.

A sharp exhale escapes Cavan’s lips as he stood up straight once more, tugging at the end of his uniform. Alana places a hand on her chest as she feels her heart beat rapidly against her ribcage, raising her gaze, she’s met with her son’s weary expression. “Cavan, you’re home.”

Bluntly ignoring their mother’s realization, Cavan presses a hand on Alana’s forehead. “Are you alright? Vienna and I have been trying to get ahold of you for the past few minutes.”

“You’ve exposed yourself again to another Piece of Eden.” Vienna reprimanded as she stood behind Cavan, eyeing the Gauntlet wrapped around Alana’s left hand. “Count Williams shouldn’t have lent it to you.”

Swatting away her son’s prodding fingers, Alana clenches her left fist and the Gauntlet releases its hold. The former Mentor pulls it off as she unceremoniously tosses it on her table, which causes both of her children to flinch. Quietly, she gestures Vienna and Cavan to take a seat and they do so without complaint. A brief pause engulfs the three of them but not long before Alana spoke up.

“I saw what could’ve been.” Alana said with a heavy heart. “Had I made a different choice.”

The twins eyed one another as they reluctantly nodded at their mother’s words. Vienna leans in slightly, eager to know more. “Do you want to talk about it? What you saw?”

As Alana had opened her mouth, she closed it shut almost immediately. Clasping her gloved hands together, she simply shook her head. “I think it’s best to not to.”

The older Assassin’s words had obviously disappointed the twins as they inaudibly groaned but respected their mother’s decision as they nodded. 

Vienna then shifts from her seat, unable to look her mother in the eye. On her face was a look of worry. Of course, Alana notices immediately and calls her attention. “What troubles you, dear?”

Cavan turns to face his sister as well, and it makes her fiddle with her sleeves a bit more furiously. With a click of a tongue, Vienna blurts her thoughts out. “I’ve been thinking about moving the Assassins from London to Liverpool.”

Her daughter’s words had taken her aback, unsure how to respond at such a bold claim. Cavan could feel the tension between the two women before him. However he remains silent, all knowing that this wasn’t just a discussion between a mother and a daughter, but between two Mentors as well.

Although, Alana knew that if Vienna was to live in another city, that would mean huge changes have to be made for the British Brotherhood. It’s the sole reason why Alana hesitated at Vienna’s plan. 

As if reading her thoughts, Vienna flails her arms in protest as her own brown eyes widened at their mother. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s obviously a big decision, not only personally, but for the Brotherhood as well. But as the current Mentor, I thought that it’s about time that expanded our reach.”

Cavan hums, interjecting into the conversation. “I agree. It’s been years since London’s been liberated from the Templars’ control, perhaps it is time to move on from our old ways.”

Alana then rubs her chin unconsciously, weighing the pros and cons of Vienna’s plan. It was realistic, a good start even. But it would also mean she’d be away from her, Alana wouldn’t be able to offer her her guidance.

But as she lifted her gaze, she met Vienna’s anxious face. Suddenly remembering what Xavier and the other Maria had told her; that she needed to let Vienna grow on her own.

Leaning back on her office chair, Alana waves a hand and smiles. “Alright.”

The twins perk up at their mother’s answer. While Cavan was grinning maniacally, Vienna dared to challenge Alana’s stare. “Did I hear you correctly…?”

Alana then laughs, clutching her abdomen as she does so. “Yes, Vienna. You can move the Assassins to Liverpool if you wish-”

“Move the Assassins to _where?!”_

The Dorian-Richardson family jumped at the sudden intrusion of a familiar voice. With a groan, Alana nurses an incoming headache as her fingers rubbed her temple while Vienna and Cavan turned their attention towards the office door. There they found the Count of Berkshire and a family friend, Marshall Williams, and his daughter, Valerie, trailing behind him with an apologetic smile on her lips.

“Never thought you’d be the eavesdropping type, Marshall.” Alana bluntly retorted as she glared at the aristocratic Assassin, earning an eye roll from said man. “Let alone _break into_ my own abode.”

Glaring at his friend, Marshall seemed to control himself from blowing raspberries like a child. “May I remind you that the front door was wide and open.” He then fixes his gaze at Vienna, throwing an accusing finger towards her. “Why move the Assassins to that crummy town? You must be thinking of going there just because you support Liverpool Football Club. Bah!” 

Nobody dared to respond at the Count’s outburst, allowing him to continue. “If I were you, Mrs. Vienna, I’d go to Manchester instead. Not only does it have rich heritage and livelier surroundings, they are also home to the best football club in England, Manchester United-”

 _'Never thought the Count of Berkshire was a supporter of them, let alone football itself.'_ Alana pondered as she placed her curled up hand upon her mouth.

Valerie had the audacity to flick her father’s earlobe, earning a yelp from him. “So much for making a _reputable_ argument, father.”

As Valerie glowered at her father’s fuming, Vienna and Cavan laughed boisterously as Alana smiled at the unravelling scene before her. 

Casting a glance at the Gauntlet that laid on the corner of her desk, thinking back at what it had offered her, Maria’s words echoing in the back of her mind. With a shake of her head, she huffs a sigh of relief. Finally, the weight she carried for years had been lifted off her shoulders. 

With both sorrow and confidence in her chest, Alana decides that it was also time for her to move on as well.

She wouldn’t let life deprive her any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea is sorta a long-shot but I was thinking of writing a spin-off, one-shot for this. Specifically focusing on Xavier's point of view; becoming a Templar and plotting against the Assassin-Templar War. Hopefully I do get the inspiration to work on it, but for now I'll be trying to finish Bloodlines.
> 
> Thank you for reading this far into Glaube und Verrat! I hope you guys loved it as much I enjoyed writing it!


	6. WURZELN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 117 years after the tragic summer of 1903, another secret had unraveled itself before two young women. Through an aged, crippled parchment, they witness firsthand the grievous reflection written by Alana, the great Iron Rose herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is totally unexpected but it's a pleasant one i assure you! my friend and co-author for this,[[AssassinEnigma]](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssassinEnigma/pseuds/AssassinEnigma) actually wrote this gem and it was so good that we just had to include it to the series!
> 
> we hope you'd like this hidden gem as much as we enjoyed working on GUV!

* * *

**PARIS, FRANCE**

**NOVEMBER 8TH, 2020**

  
  


* * *

“Pass it here, Ana, whatever it is in your hand!”

Anastasia Andreu, the granddaughter of legendary French Assassin Isabelle Allard placed a shipping envelope on the kitchen table. Anastasia sat down and pulled out the papers within. On the yellowed parchment was some elegant handwriting. Megan got herself comfortable in a chair beside her sister, who was sporting a Paris Saint-Germain shirt.

“Where’d you find this?” Megan asked, gently pressing a finger on the first page. 

“Margaux gave it to me. She was cleaning out files and she came across this with a note attached to it. It was written by grandmother saying that it was a chunk of Alana Rose Dorian’s journal, and that it will be passed down to members of the family. A missing one, if you will.”

“Fascinating!” Megan replied. “A journal from the Iron Rose herself. It must’ve been handed down from Isabelle to Mother, and now on to you then. I wonder what is contained within these pages?”

“Shall we take a gander?”

“Let’s.”

Anastasia and Megan began to navigate their way through the pages, eyes widening with each page they scour over. The pages described with high precision a tragic event that happened in the summer of 1903 through the eyes of Alana Rose Dorian herself.

* * *

**  
****AUGUST 5TH, 1905**

**ANFIELD ASSASSIN BUREAU**

**LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND** **  
  
**

* * *

Two years.

Two years is how long it has taken me to muster up the courage to even write about the haunting events that took place July 1903. It has plagued my thoughts, leaving a mental scar on my mind. With my twin children Vienna and Cavan off fighting in the Revolution in Russia, I figured I should write it all out, to let all my feelings go onto a piece of paper. One final time. Then I will attempt to forget it for the rest of my time on this planet. 

July 28th, 1903, was the night I no longer deserved to be called the Iron Rose. That day was the day that I died as a Master Assassin.

Allow me to regale you, dear reader, if you would be so kind.

  
  


* * *

**  
****I**

**PANIC**

* * *

  
  


The tragic events were set into motion on the rainy night on the eighth of May, when I was awoken in a rush by several raps on the door. In a fluster, I hurried down the stairs of my Crawley flat to answer the door. I opened it to see Noah, who was one of my apprentices. In his eyes I could sense panic and fear.

That is where the thoughts of something horrible began for me.

I let him into the flat to get him out of the rain. When he tried to speak, he hesitated before he uttered that dreadful sentence.  
  


 _“I come with disturbing news, ma’am. The sanctuary has been breached.”_ _  
  
_

It was the worst outcome I had imagined. The Assassin Sanctuary in Crawley was hundreds of years old, housing the most valuable relics the Brotherhood had acquired over the centuries. Statues of legendary British Assassins such as Robert Fitzwalter, William of Cassingham (despite other people’s views of him), Edward Kenway, Miko, and my mother Juliette Marie Dorian. In between the statue of my mother and Kenway stood a statue of Altair Ibn-La’Ahad, the legendary Levantine Assassin. Call it our own version of Monteriggioni. I remember hearing stories from my mother of all the relics that were inside, such as Kenway’s swords and pistols, Robert Fitzwalter’s armor, the pistol and gauntlet of my good friend Maria Williams (may God bless her soul), and the robes of Leonard Frye.

But, underneath the statue sat the Gauntlet of Eden. Maria and I set out to Kirkwall in Scotland around 1870 to retrieve it before I left for Germany. It certainly was an adventure. Navigating my way through the cathedral solving the puzzles was an absolute thrill, aside from accidentally punching Maria in the face. We made our way into the tomb of Rognvald Kali Kolsson, who was the last known man to possess the Gauntlet according to Kenway’s research. But we couldn’t open the sarcophagus. Maria eventually opened it by fiddling around with one of the statues behind the sarcophagus itself. In the body’s hand was the Gauntlet itself. After bickering about it for a little bit, I caught wind of a ring on her left hand. 

That was when I found Maria was engaged.

But enough with the blabbering. Where was I again? Oh yes.

The Sanctuary had been breached, and the Gauntlet was missing. I lumped myself into Noah’s carriage, and was promptly escorted to the location of the Sanctuary, which was located in the backyard of the Goff Mansion (the last time I was there was when we last sealed it in around 1895 or so). I pried open the door, allowing Noah to enter first. Winding down the stairs, we arrived to see a crowd of Assassins. Vienna was in the middle of it, and to her left was my friend and Maria’s older brother, Count Marshall Williams (he doesn’t prefer it that way, always liked to be called the Count of Berkshire, crazy man). I parted through the crowd of Assassins to greet Vienna, who then filled me in on the situation at hand, after Marshall bitched about being in the sanctuary at two in the morning. I was expecting him to gripe about the state of my clothes.

Enough with the rambling, Alana. Jesus Christ.

Vienna informed me that the Gauntlet of Eden, which was on a pedestal underneath the statue of Altair, had indeed been stolen, and whomever did, left no trace of their being. She had informed me that she used her Eagle Vision, and it was in vain. Vienna attempted several times to tell me to go home and rest, but I brushed her off every attempt she threw at me.

_I should have listened to her._

Even Marshall insisted that I go home and rest as well, but I refused. I used my Eagle Vision to scour the area for clues, but my gift failed me as well. Vienna told me again that she had tried everything. I chimed in with the word _ghosts,_ which had earned the two of us a verbal chastising from Marshall, saying that neither of us deserved to be Mentors. His frequent outbursts were the reason why he would have never been a Mentor to begin with.

Brushing aside the negativity, we grouped together to discuss the possibilities of who or what could have taken the Gauntlet. The only two suggestions we came up with were that it was a stealthy Templar or a rogue Assassin. Either way, I informed Vienna that I would look into the case myself, where once again Vienna abruptly informed me that she would handle it with the help of a few Master Assassins. After a brief conversation about family, I made my leave. But in my head, I had a strong hunch that something horrible was going to happen.

I wish I wasn’t right, but I unfortunately was.

  
  


* * *

July 27th.

A day just before Xavier’s birthday. He would have been thirty one, had he not died on that fateful day back in 1876. I would light a series of candles on that day for every year that had passed. It was a day that riddled me with severe depression and anxiety, even in old age.

But not this year.

Bringing me out of my mini depression was the sound of hooves clacking on the pavement. I took a peek out the window to see Marshall walking up to my flat’s door. Clearing my throat, I opened the door and ushered Marshall in (I was expecting Noah, but it is what it is). Awkward greetings followed, transitioning into a moment of brief silence before Marshall pulled an envelope out of the pockets of his robes. Inside of it was a letter which read:

_You seek for what you do not deserve and cannot protect._

_She gave her life for it and yet the glory was misplaced._

_Therefore I swept it, far from you. It’s now where it belongs._

_A chance is all you get, a chance for redemption._

_The answers are where her heart beat fastest._

After reading the letter, Marshall and I sat down and discussed who could have sent the letter. Before I could finish my sentence, Marshall denounced that it could not have been Alphonse Mulligan, the Grand Master of the German Empire Templars, due to him recently passing away. I brought up the possibility of Lance, his son who had turned to the Assassins, possibly betraying us, which was again debunked by Marshall, saying that Lance was at home resting during the break-in. Marshall brought up Erwin, but I immediately shot his theory down (that felt really good). We also took a look at the last line, in particular where _her heart beat the fastest_ part. We deduced that it was possible that we look in places that Maria herself looked the most. Marshall informed me that there was a certain library that Maria frequented in Horsham, so he said that him and his daughter will check it out, while I volunteered to go to London to check out two places we had frequented in the past. Going against my own daughter’s orders, I gathered up my Mentor’s robes and weaponry to come out of retirement for one last time.

London needed me one final time.

Hopefully it was the last time.

* * *

**II**

**THE HUNT BEGINS**

* * *

  
  


_Oh London. Good to be back._

Last time I was in the great city of London was in November of 1888, a day after my forty-eighth birthday down in the dreary doldrums of the old asylum in Lambeth, fighting the legend known as Jack the Ripper. Before the battle downstairs, I was informed that a figure who looked like the Ripper was lurking on the grounds of the asylum, looking for his former nurse and doctor. I spied his doctor through my Eagle Vision, and immediately told him to leave the premises. Hesitantly, he left. I turned my attention back to find his nurse, who was located on the top floor on the side to the northeast. Running through the halls, I managed to make it to the nurse all while evading the eyes of the Ripper. I made it up the stairs in the nick of time to rescue the nurse, who was my childhood friend Tessa Whitney. I told her to leave quickly as well, but she tried to ask me more questions, to which I sternly told her to leave. She listened to me, and was ushered out quickly and safely by a group of employees. After they left, I ran to the director’s office, only to find out the Ripper had beaten me to him. Seeing his mutilated body on the ground by the firepit always makes me grimace every time I think of it. Before I had any time to think, I was beset by a group of mentally disabled patients, who attacked me on sight. I fended them off to the best of my ability, but when I got overwhelmed, I fled by charging out the window. Hurt shoulder and all, I evaded the sight of the police and rendezvoused with Evie, where we defeated the Ripper (that can be found in another journal).

Anyway, I thought I would begin my search at the place Jacob, Evie, Maria and I would go to after we fought at the fight clubs: The Ye Olde Cock Tavern in the core of London.

Oh, all the alcohol that was consumed at that place. Maria didn’t consume as much beer as I did, but she did have fond memories of the place, such as her and I getting into a fight within the pub and blaming it on the men who fought against us. She would always tell me of that story whenever we got together. What greeted me when I got there was a crowd of people. Parting my way through the said crowd, I was greeted by the sight of a mutilated woman. It was a graphic sight. The poor woman had a cut from her shoulder to her waist, with her blood staining her frilly white dress. I tried to cross the line, but the bobbies stopped me in my tracks, but due to some of them knowing who I was, they allowed me to cross into the scene. I examined the wound on her back for a few moments before gently flipping the body over, to reveal yet again another shocking sight.

The woman was a splitting image of Maria. The state of the body made me want to vomit, but I held it back as best I could.

While I was lost in thought, one of the officers asked if the Ripper was out and about again. I wanted to call him out on his stupidity, but realized I could get arrested for doing such a thing. So I held off. After a brief conversation with another officer, I asked if I could investigate on my own inside the pub. He granted me permission. Thanking him, I went inside. It was eerie, because there was nothing suspicious inside. No blood, no furniture out of place. Nothing. What time did this happen at?

So I asked the officer what time it happened. He informed me that the attack happened in broad daylight at around 9 am, and that witnesses informed me that she was dragged out of the pub by a hooded figure. The word _hooded_ caught my attention. I bid the officers farewell and fired my rope launcher up towards the rooftops to navigate my way to an old friend’s place. 

So off to Jacob’s I went.

  
  


I arrived at Jacob’s lodgings in the heart of Whitechapel after a delightful free run across the rooftops. I thought it would be fun to catch Jacob off guard, as a little bit of payback for how frequently he did that to me when we worked together thirty five years before. I did succeed in a way, before allowing little Lydia to see me after I waved to her. That was enough to scare Jacob. He let me into his lodgings, saying that I somehow age backwards and how I wasn’t like this all those years ago. I promptly replied that I wasn’t like that because I had to look after him and clean up after his anarchy he caused around London. After some playful banter, we got down to business.

_“So what brings you here, Alana-bana?”_

‘Alana-bana’ was a nickname my mother and my grandmother Elise gave me growing up. It was fun being called that up until the age of ten, and from there on out I was called that jokingly from time to time by fellow Assassins. It was never fun to hear out of Jacob’s mouth though. Every time he said it himself, it would warrant a slap from me.

I responded by yanking on his earlobe and telling him that I was visiting for information. After asking what kind, I informed him that it was about the Gauntlet that Maria had in her possession. Bringing up Maria hit a little bit of a soft spot in Jacob, due to him having romantic feelings for her in the past. He did, however, inform me that all he knew was that the Gauntlet had been stolen a couple of months ago and asked if Vienna had found it yet. I informed him with a no, and told him that there was a hooded figure who committed the murder at the pub near my mother’s flat. He told me there was no rogue Assassin activity recently, but he did point me in the direction of the former Westminster fight club as he had heard about some activity in and around the area. I thanked him as he escorted me to the door of his flat. While on the way to the door he questioned why I was being so polite and what not. I brushed over what he said, telling him that I needed to get to the fight club. He decided to call me ‘Alana-bana’ again. Instead of pinching his ear again, I patted him on the shoulder instead, reminding him that his feelings for Maria were very real, and that deep down, she probably loved him as well. Jacob did express to me that if he would’ve had the time, and if she would have come back to London, Jacob would have let out his true feelings for her. I jokingly brought up the fact she found Erwin, which drew the ire of Jacob instead. Dismissively waving at Jacob, I descended down the stairs and made my way over to the former fight club.

  
  


Arriving at my destination, I pulled my hood down to see a weathered wooden door. I opened it rather easily, which was quite peculiar because the door beforehand was super hard to open on its own, usually because Topping had a key to open it from the inside. I flicked out my hidden blade just as a precaution. I walked down the stairs and took in the sights. The former fight club was evidently abandoned. The chandelier was shattered in the middle of the ring and the ring itself was littered with dust, crunching under my feet. I stood in the middle of the ring, hands on my hips, and reflected on my fights here. My most prominent one was against Bonita Price and Jennifer Haskins, the dual champions of the club. After gloating about defeating Evie, I challenged them. They accepted. The fight against Haskins was a brutal fight. I hurt my ribs in the beginning of the fight, with Jennifer taking full advantage of it, throwing me through a table and then throwing a wooden folding chair at my head, leaving a cut on my forehead, causing my face to be covered in my own blood. I was thrown back into the ring while Jennifer lit a table on fire, threatening to throw me through the table. I countered her attack and tackled her through the burning table, lighting her clothes on fire. I crawled back into the ring and had next to no time at all to celebrate before Bonita jumped me, in an attempt to get me to submit. I managed to evade and fight out of her submission attempts, and hit her with a flying tackle out of the ring. Throwing her back into the ring, I climbed up to the second level and performed a backflip off the railing, not before taking a sip of wine out of a spectator’s glass. I succeeded in winning the belt off of the two of them (I held onto the belt until June of 1869, before I made my leave for Crawley and eventually the German Empire).

My time of reminiscing came today a screeching halt when I heard the agonizing cough of a woman. Following the sound of the cough, I caught wind of a figure wearing a white gown. Close behind, I saw her take a seat and begin to wheeze. I crouched beside her and asked her if everything was alright, and who hurt her. To my shock, she patted on my scratched up gauntlet twice before passing from this world. My mind began to spur about the fact that a deviant Assassin was pulling at my heartstrings by stealing the gauntlet. There was one more place left to check, and this place would be a shot to the gut for me.

The Williams Estate.

I left the former fight club at once to find out if this deviant Assassin made a stop at the old abandoned residence.

It was worth a shot.

* * *

  
  


Arriving at the residence, I opened the back gate, and made my way through the dilapidated backyard. Vines were growing up the walls and the grass was very long (if Maria was still alive, she wouldn’t settle for this). I placed my hand on the dusted golden handle, and pried the door open. Looking inside, the blank white walls gave me chills upon entering. The last time I was here was with my mother in 1876, before the incident happened. The once elegant furniture was covered up by white sheets. But the paintings that were hung up remained. The one I found in particular that was still in pristine condition was the family portrait. In it was Count Frederick and Countess Cordelia Shaw of Berkshire, and their three children, Marshall and Maria (whom of which were still children), and Caelan who was still an infant. I don’t know what it was, but there was something that made me nervous when I was around Count Frederick. Perhaps it was the heterochromia, I have no idea. But the painting wasn’t helping. 

I carried on through the estate, making my way up the once elegant staircase, thinking that the upper rooms could be of more importance when it comes to finding possible evidence. The second door at the very end was Maria’s room, the path lined out by many of her artworks.Her room served as the de facto HQ of the Ravens of London. I held my hand over the handle to her door, hesitating for a few moments before opening the door, pondering about all the bittersweet memories we had in her bedroom. I swung the door open and was shocked by what I saw. 

Maria’s room was untouched. No furniture was covered at all. Nothing. Paintings were strewn all over the floor. I know Maria had a knack for painting like I did writing books, but she was way more organized than this. It was almost as if this mystery person tore through Maria’s collection of paintings. One painting remained untouched, however. It was resting on an easel facing her bedroom window, with a bird perched on a branch. I believe it was a lark of some kind. My eyes meandered over to her bed table and saw a few photographs. That’s when the tears started to flow. On her bed table was a photo of the four of us, the Ravens of Crawley. That was the name of our little group of Assassins who were tightly knit and ran missions together quite frequently. We broke up when I left for The German Empire and reunited as the Ravens of London. We got back together when I returned from Germany, and broke up again when Maria passed from this world. Another picture was shortly after we became knight and dames, us standing on the grounds of buckingham palace. That photo pierces my heart even more because a few moments after this photo was taken I would receive word that Albert had been killed.

That was mere moments before my life changed forever. 

The final picture was that of myself and Maria posing with our cups of tea in the Eagle Talon Hotel and Cafe in Cairo. Her tea was butterfly pea, which was her favourite, and mine was the regular old green tea. It was as if I was going back in time the longer I gazed into our eyes in the photo. I just wish we had more memories like that. Memories like Egypt and London. Ones that stick with you forever. 

Ending my thoughts was the caw of a Raven. How fitting was that? Standing in our old headquarters and our favourite bird turns up, reminding me to continue on with my search of Maria’s room. After briefly going through some more photos I made my way over to Maria’s closet. As I reached down towards the golden handles, I noticed that there were handprints on them, looking recent. Had someone been to the Williams Manor before I was? Then it clicked. I realized that it could have been the Gauntlet thief. But why would this person raid the closet? It was a great question that was about to be answered. Opening the door, I was shocked to see that everything in Maria’s closet was tattered and torn, covered with blood. Her favourite pistol was dismantled and her hidden blade was missing as well. The only garment that was left untouched and free of blood was Maria’s white wedding gown. I pondered for a few moments before it hit me.

_Where her heart beat fastest…._

The thief who had stolen the Gauntlet of Eden took it to the highest point in London, which was at the top of St. Paul’s Cathedral.

I quickly left the Williams Estate and grabbed a carriage, wondering what lay ahead of me.

Whatever it was, It was not good.

* * *

**III**

**THE CONFRONTATION**

* * *

  
  
  


I arrived at St. Paul's Cathedral, and was greeted by that one day back in 1871. 

Maria’s wedding to the love of her life, Erwin.

I remember being notified about the wedding a day before it happened by an apprentice. In a massive panic, I quickly packed for Vienna and Cavan before packing for myself (I nearly forgot my blue gown!) and managed to pose as a family of stowaways to get back to London on time. It’s safe to say that Maria was a little pissed off with me, but it was nothing that my way with words couldn’t handle. I remember so vividly standing up at the altar with Evie and Gabrielle, with Evie acting so impatient about satisfying the wishes of the aristocrats in sight. It was an elegant ceremony, with the cathedral filled to the max. It flew by too, until Maria shocked everyone in sight with the following words:

_“-I’m pregnant.”_

When I heard Maria’s announcement, I was floored with excitement. I was finally going to become a godmother. I turned to Evie, who gave me two blinks of her eyes before sharing a smile with me. Nine months later, her son Xavier was born. I always made a point of visiting Xavier every chance I got whenever I left Berlin.

Until that wretched day happened.

Jesus Christ Alana, quit your rambling. I’ve done enough reflecting on that sad day, and it becomes hell for me to relive it.

Little did I know that I was going to do that all over again.

I entered the cathedral through an open window, and walked through, carrying on through the darkness. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the coattails of a figure on the upper floor. I looked around and deduced that the fastest way to the upper floor was to climb up the organ, and leap to the ledge. So that’s what I did. Climbing an organ is not an idea I would recommend.

Nevertheless, I made it up to the second level, despite nearly slipping on the railing. I propelled myself up, and saw that the only way up was through another window. Grabbing onto the windowsill, my left ankle slipped and was left in considerable pain. Pushing on, I made it to the rooftops, catching wind of the elusive thief. Keeping up my pursuit of the thief on a sprained ankle, slowly but surely, I made it up to the top of the Cathedral. There the thief stood. I just wanted to get this over with. Taunting me with my past, I called out to him, demanding that He return the gauntlet. He began to speak about the upbringing of Maria’s son and the incident that took Maria from this world. The story itself was tugging at my very heartstrings, nearly bringing me to tears. Part of me was also wondering how he knew all of this information. 

_“Who the fuck are you?”_ I called out to him.

What caught me off guard was the fact that he also knew a lot about me, criticizing me about my knowledge before he revealed himself to me. He had brown hair, round face, and olive eyes. It took me a few moments to process it but I could believe what I was seeing. The man who attempted to take my life in Berlin five years ago was here facing me. Then it hit me as to who it was. A shiver went down my spine. 

Xavier Baudin was alive and standing before me.

I stood in awe. My godson was alive and well. Happy memories flooded my mind until I caught wind of a familiar pin on his collar. It wasn’t the Williams family crest, but the Mark of Cain. Xavier was a Templar.

He taunted me about how he turned against the Assassins, calling me a ‘hopeless fool’ in the process.

(If you wonder how I remember all of these things, it’s things like this that attach to your brain like a parasite and never let go.)

I had enough of his mockery, and lunged at him with all the night in my then sixty-two year old body. Xavier effortlessly countered my kukri blow and landed a shot to my face which rattled my jaw. Holding my cheek, I looked up to see Maria’s gauntlet on his wrist, which was a flagrant insult to Maria and her legacy. I called him out on his disrespectful actions. Xavier retorted by again taunting me about the past events and how I failed to save him and Maria (I am tearing up just writing this).

But I caught him off guard by dropping a smoke bomb, covering the area in smoke. I quickly shed my jacket and hastily fled down to the lower level (the area with the pillars). I thought I was in the clear until I felt a searing pain coming from my shoulder. I looked down to see a throwing knife engraved with the Mark of Cain embedded in my right shoulder. He was born with Erwin’s strength and Maria’s incredibly consistent accuracy.

“I _s this how the great Iron Rose deals with threats? By cowering away?_ ”

I countered as I was running away by saying if the Templars talk their enemies to death. It was a childish rebuttal, but it was all I could think of during my moment of panic. I hid behind a statue, fearing that Xavier was right on my tail. I peered my head around from behind, only to be greeted by a throwing knife grazing my left cheek. After tending to my cheek wound, I peered around again to see that he wasn’t there. Suddenly, a hand from behind me dragged me out from the cover of the statue and threw me down belly first on the tiled roof, hurting my ribs. He clearly didn’t answer my question about why he chose the Templars, instead pushing me back onto the concrete and kneeling before me.

“ _Because they cared for me when you didn’t, traitor_.”

Then it happened.

He plunged his rapier tip into my right kneecap. The pain was so immense that I screamed my throat raw. I was breathless. To add insult to injury, he twisted the blade deeper into the wound, causing blood to pour out of the wound and leave me in agonizing pain. Xavier was going to kill me, maim me, and I was rolling around like a fish. It was the first time since I was a little girl that I was scared. Not only for my well-being, but for my life. I had to do something before my own godson ran my best friend’s blade across my throat. I told him that I loved him like another son and Maria like she was my sister, to which again he told me about how I prioritized the artifact instead of her (it was a mistake I vow never to repeat). He informed me about what he was going to do to me. But the moment he brought Vienna and Cavan into his speech, I reached for my kukri and slashed him across the abdomen in a vain attempt to fend him off. As he was distracted, I propped myself up and leaped over the edge, attempting to descend downward, which was hell on a useless right leg and a sprained left ankle.. As Xavier was approaching, I quickly shattered a stained glass window and entered, cutting my arm and the inside of my right thigh. Both bled as well. I tore off a part of my shirt, bandaging my wound. My attempt at a bandage failed as it fell off, hearing Xavier’s footsteps on the cracked glass. I quickly made my way down a flight of stairs, all while on a hobble, with Xavier hot on my tail due to the fresh blood I was staining the floor with. Before I knew it, I was on the main floor. My heart was racing. My anxiety hasn’t been this bad since I was a teenager. It only worsened as he was on the main floor too. On his face was a look of joy, of sick pleasure, at watching me suffer.

His rapier and my kukri again clashed, again and again. But he was the one who quickly broke the stalemate by attempting to slash my gut. He missed, but slashed my forearm with a strong strike. My forearm was covered with a bloody shirt. I tried to recoup in one of the pews, but he pressed on with his assault, knocking me back into a pew, and with it my head came into contact with it. 

At this point, I was ready to give in to my wounds. I was like a wounded deer shot by a hunter. I was ready to accept my fate and die. But inside me was a voice. It belonged to Maria, telling me to keep going. I keep fighting the good fight, or make my last stand at St. Paul’s. I had to keep going. For Maria.

Trying my hardest to get away from my manic godson, I lifted myself onto the altar, hastily knocking over some goblets. For what I felt like was the final time, I pleaded with him whilst lying on my stomach. The exchange went like this:

_“Xavier….things don’t have to end this way… ”_

_“Trust me Iron Rose. This is the only way! ”_

He went in for another attack with his rapier, but I evaded him and lunged my kukri into his back. Surely I thought it would end him, but he reacted by slamming the butt of his rapier into my pained and bruised face. In retaliation, I landed shots on his face and his gut. He pulled the kukri out of his back and smirked at me as I propped myself up. Xavier said that members of my family were expert swordsmen, and that he claimed that was a lie.

That gave me one last idea. Disarming him. I taunted him with a cocky smirk of my own. He pondered for a few moments. As if time itself slowed down around me, I dodged a rapier strike in the nick of time, I grabbed Xavier’s wrist and twisted it, easily transferring his rapier to my right hand.

_It worked. You can do it Alana._

With my left hand, I placed him in a temporary chokehold and kicked him in the right shin, letting go as he tumbled down to the ground. I clambered on top of him, and taken over by an unknown fury, I repeatedly stabbed Xavier in the chest several times. Amidst the chaos, a distant memory came back to me. It was of Maria and I sitting atop the Great Pyramid all those years ago. It was brief, as I quickly snapped back to reality to see my godson’s chest tattered and torn from my repeated slashing. I dropped his rapier and immediately caressed his head, placing it on my thigh. I asked him if he hated me. His response gave me gooseflesh.

_“Was this how Mama felt like then? The sullen feeling of emptiness, the dull ache of pain? You know, I saw Papa Erwin’s ghost that night, auntie. He sat by his favourite chair, and blankly stared at Mama. It was as if he knew._

_For a while, I was furious with you. But as I lay here, I realized that the blame was misplaced, this invisible war for power - the Gauntlet and all those precursor artifacts you hunt for, they were the cause of Mama’s death.”_

I was shocked. Just five years ago he attempted to take my life in Berlin during a visit of mine, all in a blind rage, and now he is claiming that the Pieces of Eden were responsible for Maria’s death. Looking back on it, he was right. In a mad grab for these precious objects, countless people end up dying just for one person to lay their hand on it. Haiti, Lisbon. It’s all happened before.

I questioned him about all the violence and why he joined the Templars. He revealed to me that he was the sole Templar responsible for the collapse of the German Assassin Brotherhood, and that the British Assassins would have been easy pickings with Vienna in charge. He would go on to criticize Vienna’s leadership, saying that she is too much like me and relies on me too much. 

I told him that if Maria were still alive, that she would have been proud of the man Xavier had grown up to become. He said when he reaches heaven that he will ask her. I chastised him for that comment. He told me to be a realist for once and accept the fact that he was dying.

He peeled the Gauntlet off his hand, and held it up to me without knowing it. He informed me that he did not regret a single action that he had committed and that I must understand his reasoning. On top of that he revealed to me that Kenway’s research was wrong. It never gave us unlimited knowledge, but a glimpse into futures and possible alternative realities. As he laid dying, he handed it to me before passing away.

I wish it never came to this. On the cold floors of St. Paul’s, I cried many tears. I can’t recall how long I was crying for, but I cried for everyone. Xavier, Maria, Erwin, the poor women who died at his hands. Between sobs I managed to give him his last rites, and told him one final time:

_“You’ll never walk alone."_

I thought it would be fitting to take him back to his mother’s residence here in London. Even though most of this was a blur, I will try to recall the events in the best I can.

I managed to hobble on one leg to the Williams residence. The door was already open, so I made my way inside. I could hear chatter in the upper levels so I made my way up the stairs. The chatter of voices became clearer the closer I got; I could hear Count Marshall, Valerie, and Vienna. I let out a deep breath as my right knee gave out on me, tumbling through the door. Looks of shock and horror were on all their faces as I turned around to reveal Xavier’s body in my arms. Marshall was the first to approach me, pointing out my wounds before he asked who was in my arms. I told him that it was Xavier. At first he didn’t believe it, but upon further examination from Valerie and Vienna, he ended up agreeing with me. With the utmost disrespect, Marshall opened one of Xavier’s eyes. I kicked Marshall away from Xavier with enough force to knock him on his ass. Once he got up, I threw the Gauntlet at him. He looked down at it confusingly.

_“There’s your sentimental piece of hyperbolic metal! I hope you’re goddamn happy!”_

Marshall looked at me with a dumbfounded expression while Vienna came to my side, addressing my injuries once more. I just stared blankly at her and started to cry. Taken aback, Vienna was surprised to see me weeping, and asked what was wrong. I let it all out on her shoulder, telling her that I was wrong and that I should’ve listened to her and not get involved in the hunt for the Gauntlet.

Vienna calmed me down and forgave me. Forgave me my mistakes, and my stubbornness. My stubbornness led to my injuries. My ankle, my shoulder, and my knee. All mistakes made by me and me only. They were seemingly all forgiven by my daughter, who wasn’t mad at the fact that I, a retired Assassin, went against the Mentor’s orders. Once this was all said and done, we found ourselves a carriage and made a very somber trip back to Crawley.

Due to my injuries, my life and being have been wounded. I have a great pain in my shoulder from the throwing knife wound. I have to walk around with a cane now and wear a brace on my right knee. Ever since, I have lived with severe anxiety and grappled with survivor’s guilt. I even hit the bottle more than a few times in order to cope. I will never be the same Alana again. Despite my successes that day, despite my survival, it was the day that I no longer deserved to be called the ‘Iron Rose’ anymore. It is the day I died as a Master Assassin, and now I hope you understand now why that is the case.

All over a piece of fucking hyperbolic metal.

Thank you for reading, whomever you may be. 

_Alana R. Dorian_

  
  


* * *

**POST - SCRIPT**

**SEPTEMBER 25TH, 1911**

  
  


* * *

_Cavan:_

After reading my mother’s hidden journal entry for the first time in seven years, I was instantly reminded about how traumatized my mother was after Xavier Baudin’s death. I was reminded of the stories she told us about how she didn’t deserve to survive. It’s hard to accept the death of a loved one, especially after forcing your own hand upon them as they threaten your life. Even in the years that followed, if it was brought up in a conversation, she would immediately try to divert the situation. I could immediately sense that she was still troubled by it, so that is why Vienna and I made the difficult decision to remove these pages from her journal with her approval of course. It was the best decision to make. On our trip to Canada three years ago, she was still talking about the Gauntlet and how she could have spared Xavier.

Our decision was made based on the hopes of her well being getting better going forward.

_Vienna:_

We can tell you this: The Gauntlet is a wretched nightmare. It is a powerful relic of the Isu, capable of showing its wielder possible futures and alternate realities. My mother told me about these alternate realities. She told me she witnessed a reality where Father was alive, along with Maria and Erwin, who had a family of five. Mother told us that in this reality, she had real conversations with said people (though she would not disclose what was said in them). In this reality, Mother said I was to be wed to Xavier! I would say it is sweet, but unfortunately, it is not the reality we live in.

As for the Gauntlet, it’s gone. Far away from London. Far away from Liverpool. Far away from England. On a trip to the Canadian province of Saskatchewan (if that’s how you spell it) within the Qu’Appelle Valley three years ago, near the Calling Lakes, east of B-Say-Tah on the shores of Echo Lake, we buried it. It must not be recovered by either Assassin or Templar, because I believe it will affect both sides in our eternal war for the worst.

_Vienna V. Dorian_

_Cavan S. Richardson_

_The Two Scousers_

**Author's Note:**

> Justin made a wiki page for Alana. So if you want to check it out, [[go here!]](https://acwfanon.fandom.com/wiki/Alana_Rose_Dorian) Most of the art used there was made by me.
> 
> If you wanna see how Maria looks like, and check out her backstory, [[here's another link!]](https://temeyes.tumblr.com/ocmariaac) Thank you so much for reading!


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